Oksana and her new-found friends ended up venturing into the renown bustling Vossoriyan market, a grand building of many floors, a lovely hub of activity and commerce. The air was filled with the aroma of exotic spices, the vibrant colours of the myriad of goods displayed in the stores, and the sounds of bargaining melding into a cacophony. The atmosphere was full of anticipation and excitement.

Her first stop was at the infamous vendor named Fat Yuri, known for his delectable assortment of food. Oksana exchanged warm greetings with him as her eyes scanned the enticing array of delicacies on offer. She selected an assortment of fresh produce and savoury treats, earning favour with him to get a special discount at a store of her choice.

As she continued to explore the market, she began to hear rumours of a legendary blade with the unconventional name of Orphan 65 at the renown shop known as Cutting Edge. Eager to uncover the truth behind the tales, Oksana left her friends to move to the shop, her footsteps quickening with anticipation. However, upon arrival, her excitement waned as she gazed at the exorbitant prince of the legendary blade. Despite her longing of the idea to possess the weapon, she recognized the practicality of the situation and decided to adjust her plan.

Oksana dejected considered her options as she walked through the market when she noticed the excitement in the corner. With a twinkle and a playful grin, she considered the betting shop! Guided by her intuition, she skilfully navigated the lottery. She bought ticket after ticket, using her abilities to tilt the odds ever so slightly in her favour. The anticipation grew with each attempt as Oksana repeatedly came tantalizingly close to the jackpot. Her fingers danced across the tickets, and finally, as if fate had aligned, she emerged victorious, her luck shining through as she secured the coveted jackpot.

With her newfound winnings, Oksana’s heart brimmed with joy as she returned to Cutting Edge, and after driving a hard bargain, she purchased the legendary blade, Orphan 65, named after the fact the steel had been folded 65,000 times during the forging of the blade. Her hands trembled with excitement as she held upon it.

Embracing the warmth and excitement, she considered her friends. Embracing the spirit of caring is sharing, she embarked on a spirited shopping spree, seeking out unique and thoughtful presents for each of her friends. The joy in her eyes as she presented each gift was contagious, as she hoped to deepen the bonds of their friendship. She didn't forget to spend an obscene amount on delicious chocolate and confectionary to share with them, too.

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Event: Mandelein Castle

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A layer of fog glazed over her eyes making things hard to make out, a tug at her arm was met by the burn of prickly rope fastened tight around her limbs. The immediate sense of bondage had snapped her out of her preliminary haze, unluckily for them, her trappers didn’t realize a Nikanese shadow’s first lesson was escape. Gracefully regaling her composure, she massaged her wrist and cracking her stiff neck. The blood flowed seamlessly in her body, the magic in her body pushing at her skin like an overzealous stream looking to crack through a stifling dam. Her senses were so crisp she could feel the forces swell in her, yet the sensitivity made her too vulnerable to the heat and noise shuffling around her.

There was no reprieve upon opening the doors to reveal a swarm of wildbloods. Ymiico looked at the moon and smiled, centering her internal magics. She wasted no time attacking the creatures that blocked her path. Quick on the attack, a series of throwing stars found themselves being hurled out, sinking into the flesh of the first wild blood as it howled in pain. It did damage to the now bloody beast, but it still stood. Her hands glowed under the moonlight releasing a massive burst of fire that she was seemingly exhaling from her mouth. The fireball was hints of flickering red and orange, scorching and charring the air and debris around them before engulfing the wild blood whole. Despite managing to take down one, the other wasted no time to leap onto the yasoi while she battled.

Ymiico was quick, even quicker with the many moons at her back, she was achieving impossible range with her acrobatics, making narrow dodges seem like child’s play to anyone watching. Twisting and contorting her body she slithered next to one of the wild bloods, bathing her hand in kinetic magics, and thrusting forward in a lighting fast job that fractured and splintered the bones within their body. The body crumpled like a stack of leaves, leaving her an opportunity to extinguish the flames from this once villagers eyes. Ymiico retrieved small vials of liquid she charged with chemical energies to turn corrosive, into the mouth of the wild blood and watched as they melted the inside, out. With just one left and no time to spare dawdling, Ymiico fled past the last remaining wild blood with not much chase from the sole survivor.

Surveying her options, Ymiico ducked into an alley hoping to lose the attention of the wild bloods around her. Much to her dismay, two child-wolves greeted her with tenacity. Normally Ymiico would have hesitated to engage with adolescents, much less children in any sort of violence, but these souls had been already lost and were vastly more dangerous and dexterous than those waiting for outside the alley. One child lept at the Nikanese ninja without much thought, a small static schism occurred, teleporting Ymiico a few feet behind the leaping child wolf. Her twin blades allowed her to venture temporally forward a few seconds. The child wolf confused would feel no more confusion after their head saw the rest of their body detached adjacent to them.

The second child wolf now humbled was much harder to pin down and destroy. Between a flurry of attacks and gymnastic prowess only a child could achieve, they danced around each other like wild shadows. Ymiico tried and tried to stun the child, feeling the presence of more wolves on her heels, but could not seem to connect any significant blows. Annoyed she finally separated into clones, cloaking her own movements from the small child. Eventually their game of tag ended with Ymiico bouncing the child’s skull off the brick faced wall she refused to get off of. She pushes deeper into town, she nears an exit, however ... A massive beast of a man utilizing magnetic magic to weld various tools together to make a hammer takes notice of her. It howls a bloodcurdling scream. With the horde behind it, there's no way she can take it on in a fair fight. She needs to reposition.

With little to no time she settles on the bathhouse, The bathhouse is nothing like what she'd find in Nikan. There are no hot springs or gender secluded rooms. No, it is a relic of a more prosperous time of Mandelein but the practice never truly died out. Theraputic mud baths were common in the swampy regions to treat certain ailments, and business continued despite rough times. Inside, she is greeted by a beast covered in flames and filled with rage, and a wolf wielding a sickle. The latter shot her a malicious gaze that lacked the feral rage most others did. Ymiico grimaces and clutches her hands even tighter than before, the outcome of this was looking bleak. No time to wait, she immediately engaged, using the mud in the boathouse as a medium. Pumping kinetic and chemical magics into the mud she created spikes of semi hardened mud to both penetrate and extinguish the fiery wolf.

The attack succeeded until the smarter of the two intervened and took the brunt of the damage onto himself. The lightning crackled and made quick work of the earth as it was its direct counter. The roof behind her collapses. The hammer has cleaned obliterated the front of the bathhouse. Leonhardt was close. Despite being amped up on her moons, Ymiico did not have the time to face these two menaces with the hammer being so close to her. The lightning wolf was proving to be too much for her as well as the fiery one who was able to attack directly after she attacked. Causing her to suffer some cleaving damage between the two of them. Thinking quick, she retrieved small metallic beads from her pouch and covered her ears and eyes before throwing them down. They exploded into a flash bang, leaving the hypersensitive wolves to be stunned by the flash.

Ymiico bolts for the back door, the flashbang catching the wolves off-guard. Before they can come to, an indiscriminate hammer swings their way and sends both flying. The constable was still on her tail.
This wasn't good, one exit was a no-go, so North it was. Having done her time on the ground she decided a change of scenery might benefit her. Ymiico took to the high ground, where many other wildbloods have started to roam. As she dashes toward the centre of town, she is intercepted by a group of four normal wolves. The big wolf starts to destroy the foundations of the buildings behind her. With little to no effort she swirled flame into her hand via the spinning of a shuriken in her palm and obliterated one of the wolves in front of her on the roof.

The flame tool swung its continuous momentum into a second wolf but did not have enough energy to topple the second beast. With her wits about her and her temporal blades she reacted to each of the onslaughts of attacks casted against her. Managing to survive unscathed she was faced with yet another wolf jumping into the fray. Again, she attacks throwing every ninja art she could think of in her repertoire to push through to the other side. The new wolf and the old wolf crumble after being disemboweled. There was no time to think, she remained vigilant on pressing on. Ymiico manages to find an opening and ninja-sprints her way to freedom. Before her is the Plaza. The fountain isn't working, and it is desolate, barring the many beasts gawking at her in the darkness. A twisted and high-pitched echo hits her and all the beasts, causing them to screech.

The massive Leonhardt suddenly lands onto said fountain, utterly destroying it. He stares down the powered up Yasoi and challenges her with a mighty roar. Bloodied and battered the Yasoi roars back in the face of Leonhardt. Ymiico flies into combat landing a normally devastating blow to his head. His body is unmoved, he adjusts his head slightly. Stringing attacks between defense was her best bet, but she quickly exhausted how much magic and dodging she could do, leaving her to cleanse in the fight to reset her abilities. His hammer lights up the sky and begins to charge, ymiico didn’t know what, but would not wait around to see. Compiling her strength she breaks the threshold, forcing him to bring down his hammer. Unsafe to the next few blows he would take despite not being able to use his hammer.

Again, he lifted the hammer and again she defies him, the previous rotation of attacks and dodges perpetuate once more before the hammer goes up thrice. Knowing she would do no damage to this beast she runs past and stuns him as she did the two wolves in the bathhouse. Ymiico begins to see a clear passage leading further North. Less wolf density. It leads somewhere familiar. The castle! Feeling light headed and blood drying on her face and hands she pauses to use her binding magic to heal herself enough to her full health. With a deep breathe she focuses herself once more before getting to the finale.

The town exit was right before her. Many still pursued her, but they had become background noise to the powerhouse that was Ymiico. The fodder was no threat, and the hammer beast had taken interest in the Church where her peers fought for survival. Perhaps she would have wished to help, but that place was SWARMING with these monsters. She had no chance to join them.

As she walked the main path leading to the castle with most of her stalkers backing off for whatever reason, she'd suddenly felt literal tension in the air. And then, once again, a high-pitched sound.

The unpleasant sound wasn't as strong, and she could feel by its intensity that it was coming from the Castle. What was strong, however, was the Thunder Wolf that crashed right in her path in a merciless bolt of lightning, steaming with excess heat. It twitched and its fur constantly hovered and erected in unnatural ways. It stared down Ymiico, keen on mauling her just like its brethren had tried to do.

Ymiico unsure of how to insulate this electric demon, relied on pure strength knowing that fire and anything else she had in her arsenal would do little in the way of damage. Her first attack was a wallop of one that was subsequently met with a zap that pinched her nerves and made her system scream. Attack after attack she landed or missed did not matter, she was continually punished for touching the wild bloods flesh with a shock of electricity. The wolf itself had a plan of its own, the polarity of the lightning he was attacking her with felt different. She could only tell due to how heightened her sense were, otherwise she would not be privy to his strategy. Ymiico had been hit with a positive and negative charge and had taken some heavy damage.

Not wanting to be victim to another round of charges she coalesced the remaining power she had into a massive ball of kinetic magic in her hand that swirled violently in her hand in a perfectly contained orb. Running towards the wolf and the wolf towards her, she thrusted the enigmatic sphere into the chest of the wolf which exploded into double the size it had been, engulfing the wolf and exploding outwards toward the castle. The wolf had been reduced to dust and the landscape behind it completely tarnished.

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What they had set in motion was nothing short of a calamity. As they dispatched to aid the Ogaurac they were instead sent blind and caught out without their backup. Something held Wu Long up and thus she was required to buy them some time. A lie and a portal later they had to act. Using the portal as a chokepoint to divide their enemies they struck. Only, even with the aid of a new student and the Ogaurac remnants they were still outmatched against the white guards and Golden Monkey.

In truth she had gambled on something untested. She deemed the risk necessary but perhaps she had lacked faith in her comrades. Worse yet, she compromised her testing standards and gambled on something working without fully understanding it. There were many mistakes she had caught in those final seconds as Ingrid readied her fissile assault but it seemed the concoction strained her in an unpredicted fashion, that much she could deduce.

With little time left she used her limited grasp on temporal magic to plant a pin in this particular moment, something for someone with greater understanding to pivot against. This was perhaps what allowed them the extra second or two to escape as Wu Long set them up multiple portals, All while Golden Monkey escaped leaving Ingrid's attack to collide with a bomb of the other's making on their side of the portal.

Trypano saw the nearest portal but it was still too far to run, not with the scant second they had to sprint before detonation. Readying her magic she prepared something desperate before something caught the back of her dress. Apparently there was another portal just behind her, one she had failed to spot initially but Ingrid hadn't. The woman dragged her back, sending her falling into the spacial aperture right as it closed on their heels. In the distance an explosion rocked the very earth but they were not left at the epicenter. They were safe, at least for the moment.

_
Trypano stood, brushing herself off before scanning the environment, taking a count of everyone present as well as passively scanning their bio-signatures. All of them had escaped save for a few Ogaurac unlucky enough to not reach a portal in time. Still, they had wasted not only the lives of what was supposed to be an arm of their faction in the coming conflict but time as well as the element of surprise. Their enemy now understood more about them. This was unequivocally lost, if not the war than at least the battle.

"Anyone still injured do report for restoration." She announced generally, plying her trade to all who still required it. Five knew that some of the students needed it given the attacks they had to withstand in that skirmish. She paid no mind to the newcomer nor their fatal mistake. This was not the time to pass judgement upon their new ally, incompetent though they had proven themself. She instead turned her focus towards Wu Long himself.

"I gather something interfered with your passage to our destination?" She inquired, her voice neither accusatory nor sarcastic, simply analytical. Cold.

"I should hope that Maura still draws breath and is simply occupied elsewhere." She needed to keep monitor of every student present as it would be easy to get caught up in their own failure and lose track of loose actors. Regardless of her actual feelings towards her or her allegiances she was bound to keep her alive until they could be returned to the arch-zeno and give unto them their report of this situation. Such was the role of a Binder by profession, perhaps something not everyone who practiced binding amongst their midst remembered clearly.

"There is another matter to discuss. You and I need to speak, soon." It was a subtle indication that the topic of discussion would need to remain between them. Depending on his choice the others wouldn't need to know the contents of this discussion as it would cease to matter, provided it's still a possibility for them.

She disdained social subterfuge so but as with many things her personal feelings were irrelevant.

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Involved - @dragonpiece,@Force and Fury,@YummyYummy,@pantothenic,@McKennaJ71,@Ti.

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There was a sense of finality to it. A light rain fell that morning as they rose from their beds, coating everything in a thin, clammy layer of coldness. Outside, Wangang was a vast grey expanse of rooftops, streets, and plazas, the trees having shed some half of their leaves by now.

It had been a near thing, the night before. Nearly, had they snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. A simple miscommunication, or had there been more at work? People shuffled into the central courtyard, yawning, stretching, and rubbing sleep from weary eyes. Accusations had flown last night but, against incredible odds, they had made it out through a half-dozen portals, gathering back at the inn within an anxious half-hour where they’d been unsure if their friends had lived or died. Some had spoken secretly. The Exemplar Wu Long, after exchanging words with Trypano, had quickly disappeared.

There was a wagon waiting for the nine youths, and more than one pored over it. Elaborate outfits in a variation of the style of the Retanese courts were laid out and labeled with their names. Yet, there was none for Xiulan, they noticed, and two extras: women’s clothes for…

“They mean to kill you or turn you. I’m your school-appointed protection.” Jocasta materialized behind Yalen with a soft smirk. “She was looking for her own portal here, so I gave her one.” Rolling up beside him, she pointed to one of the balconies, where a girl who most would’ve recognized from their classes or campus parties was sitting on the railing, legs crossed at the ankles, looking down at them.

What more could the Tan-Zeno have said that Xiuyang wasn’t perfectly capable of saying for herself? She came down and made introductions. More than one was curious about her reasons for coming. More than one warned her to turn back. It took a special sort of insanity to want to become embroiled in this fast-spiraling catastrophe.

An impromptu morning meeting quickly developed. Some voiced their apprehension about attending the dinner. Others stridently insisted that they would remain resolute and stay the course. The Twin Emperors had to fall. Still others were more circumspect. First and foremost, they maintained, all should strive to make it out of Retan alive. Information flowed in fits and starts, some more willing to share and others less. As a general rule, however, Jocasta’s presence seemed to help… encourage them to be more open.

It was Kaureerah who noticed it first, however: “Wheere ees Xiulaun?” A handful of them looked amongst each other. None had seen her. “Wheere ees Mr. Wei end Yeen end Yaung?” They were often shadows in this place, busy bustling about, cleaning, cooking, and turning up sheets. There was no breakfast prepared for them, but the table was set and there was a pot boiling in the courtyard fireplace as well.

The next half-hour was a maelstrom of activity as they scrambled to piece matters together. For the first time, the nine youths, plus their pair of new additions, communicated and worked efficiently as a team. And, through these efforts, a devious plot to rob them of their magic via plushtail oil was uncovered. Yalen, Ingrid, Maura, and Niallus conspired to turn this about on the Twin Emperors and their lackeys. Despite an attempt at a cover-up, they soon deduced that Xiulan and all three members of the Wei family had been forced to attend their kings and were likely in grave danger.

It became a waiting game. They ate their breakfast. They shared, prepared, and cleaned their poisonous clothing. As best they could, the others brought Xiuyang and Jocasta up to speed. Outside, the rain came to an end, but it did little to make the city a more welcoming place. A thin film of ash coated everything in sight and great was the panic at the previous night’s ‘eruption’ of Bailong Shan. The entire summit of the mountain had been blown off, chunks flying as far as a mile distant. Somehow, miraculously, not a single person had been killed.

Yet, that did not stop thousands from trying to flee Wanggang, believing the previous night’s cataclysm to have been merely a warning of further volcanic activity. These ground up against the recently increased city guard, taxing and straining. The carefully sewn tapestry of Retanese society was fraying precipitously at the edges and, it was under this cover that those who sought to undo it completely slipped into the capital.

Yet, even amid this cataclysmic upheaval, Some things continued as normal. The usual vendors, hucksters, and pickpockets were out in abundance. Some offered discounts. Others were selling masks of dubious manufacture and effectiveness to help their customers breathe safely in the ‘tainted air’. It was against this backdrop, and as they had just finished their purchases, that the Ersand’Enise Eleven watched as eleven litters, carried by enormous men large enough to be part ogauraq, appeared in a line. Single file, they wound their way toward the inn’s gates and, single file, they stopped in front. Their doors opened, beckoning the eleven in: one person to a litter: no more and no less. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, by Retanese reckoning.

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It took one hour for everyone to be properly attired. During this time, their litter bearers neither spoke nor substantially moved. They did not struggle in the slightest to carry their assigned passengers, though the trip was not a quick one. The clouds cleared, the sun glowed, and the air sparkled with the dust of Ingrid’s great explosion, lending this vast foreign city an almost ethereal air. Through slatted windows, they peered out as they passed the chaotic port district, wound through streets packed with workshops, and made their way across plazas and down grand avenues. Leaves fluttered off from trees and blew about as they passed squadrons of patrolling Goldcloaks. The chill in the late rezaindian air made war upon the sun and its brave rays, and this seemed a battle it was destined to win, sooner or later.

There was a sense of inevitability as they approached the gates of the Forbidden Quarter. White Knights formed up to either side of them, the very sight of the highly-trained battle mages - some of whom they had fought only the night before - doing much to set some ill at ease in their little boxes. They had already witnessed the brutality: people who tried to leave the city without permission - people who panicked or ‘disrupted public order’ - were beaten and some hauled away. The Knights followed in silent formation until they were at the gate. Then, there were commanding shouts made in Retanese and they did not so much as slow when they passed through.

Beyond, lay the houses of the rich and grand, of the exemplars, the nobles, and the highest court officials. Beyond, lay gardens, temples, libraries, and shops stocked with only the highest quality goods. Here, there were not so many people and not so much bustle. If the rest of Wanggang had teetered on the precipice of outright panic, this portion did not. Yet, they were human like the rest and, upon sighting the procession of eleven, hardly a single passerby failed to look up. The handful of children they saw pointed and made excited exclamations. One, in the middle of training with four others in the art of water telekinesis, lost his concentration and would’ve soaked his teacher had it not been for the master’s quick reflexes and exceptional control. Playfully, he splashed the boy before exhorting him to focus, and all of the children laughed.

Gradually, through their entire ride, they had been winding their way upward towards a vast twin-towered palace that sat on a terraced hill, surrounded on all sides by wild and extensive gardens. Unlike many of the lesser palaces and mansions they had passed, there were no walls here, merely hedges. A great many exotic birds, cats, and monkeys fluttered, scampered, or swung about, peering curiously or cautiously out at these newest visitors. There was no obvious entrance. The guard captain escorting them merely announced their presence in Retanese. There was a pause as Kaureerah, in the lead litter, tensed up. Her bearers had not slowed in the slightest. They were about to slam headlong into the thick tangle of plants.

Then, it parted, armlike tendrils and photosynthesizing tentacles, unlocking, unwinding, and peeling away. The litters had not slowed even once. The White Knights, however, did, for this was where their journey ended. Great lawns surrounded the shimmering white road that they rode upon, and Rikard realized that the entire thing was made of diamond. A line of trees, great and ancient, paralleled the road to either side, their leaves unnaturally green in an eternal Nashibansek summer. There were no sounds save the marching of their bearers’ feet, the creaking of the wooden litters, and the whisper of the wind and distant calls of the animals. The lawns gave way to forest and seas of bamboo. Every once in a while, they would pass a small but richly-appointed house with a black roof, or else a garden with exotic fruit trees and vegetables in a well-pruned plot. What they did not see was another sapient being for as far as they looked. It was a tunnel of verdant green, with splashes of sudden colour and sound and it was mesmerizing.

Then, it was over. They stopped: all of them at once, without a single word spoken. The doors, unbidden, unlocked themselves and swung open. The wild, ethereal forest was behind them and a plaza before. Jocasta found her wheelchair waiting, and Maura as well. There were multiple pavilions in view, but one in the distance that stood out as far larger and more opulent than the others.

A single woman stood there to greet them. She was young and pretty and had a patch over one eye. To some, she was already known. “Welcome,” she addressed them. “I trust your trip here was pleasant enough.” She did not actually give them the opportunity for substantive answers before continuing. “Please, come along and - oh! - do leave any gifts or food you’ve brought with your porters.” She smiled sweetly, but this was not a request. “There’s no need to carry anything here. Their Serene Highnesses will receive these once they have received you.” She smirked. “After all, you’re the main show, and you’ve already demonstrated your goodwill by… passing some of our tests and still attending.” She bowed her head slightly and, once they were all ready, began walking, hands clasped behind her back, visibly restraining her bouncy step, at some junctures, from turning into an outright skipping motion.

So, they followed, for what else could they do? After about half a minute, they came upon the large bald man who they had seen before. He did not so much as move until they were past. Then, he followed them, silently, seeming to move as if he were slowed underwater while somehow still keeping pace. While a bamboo hedge maze stretched out in one direction and a Nikanese garden in the other, the pavilion they had sighted upon arrival soon became clearer. This one perched on a small lawn beside a peaceful lake with enormous lily pads, a brisk stream at its far edge, and a serene island in the middle. There was no bridge visible and no obvious way to reach it save for swimming or the use of magic. A single tree rose upon it, branches heavy with plums that seemed almost to glow in various subtle colours.

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Underneath the gently flapping white fabric that now glowed golden with the sinking sun’s rays, lay a pair of enormous tables. “Please do try to remember your etiquette here,” said the woman with the eyepatch. “This is a royal dinner, all told, regardless of where it might lead.” There were already some twenty-two figures seated around them, and a handful up and moving around. Various students who had met with them recognized the remaining seven members of the Black Guard. To both their relief and trepidation, Xiulan and the Wei family were there. Wu Long and two of the other Exemplars were present as well, along with Captain Zhu, Captain Zhao, Ming, Zihan, and Yawen. Last were Lady Matsuhara and Mr. Bao, looking distinctly unhappy, and a quiet man in simple dark clothing who sipped a glass of deep red wine.

The Mysterious Guest [+]

Slightly away from the table on the left, however, was Yong, busy playing some sort of tag game with a short, athletic, middle-aged man. A second man, identical to him, sat at one head of the other table, opposite Wu Long. Upon their approach, he rose and offered a small bow. He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “You’ve made it.” His smile twinkled in his eyes. “Please,” he continued, “Come. Be seated. You’ll find your places labeled.” He clapped his hands together, businesslike. “I am Ten-Re, Emperor and Protector of Retan and your host this evening.” He gestured at the man who was playing with Yong and both halted briefly, the former fondly tousling the latter’s hair. “This is my brother Ten-Jiu, also Emperor and Protector of Retan. It is an honour to finally meet you.” He cleared his throat before a procession of introductions could commence, and raised his right hand. “Now, while I’m sure we all have plenty we’d like to say and ask, I ask that we do so over dinner.”
“It is… quite ready,” his twin interjected, “and I’m quite ready to eat. We can multitask, right?” He grinned. “你呢，勇？你饿了吗？” (and you, Yong? Are you hungry?)

“我不是!”(I’m not!) the boy protested, and Ten-Jiu laughed and shook his head. “Then you’re always gonna be a small-fry!” he teased, and Yong stuck out his tongue. Then, from the half-dozen buffet tables surrounding them came twice as many platters, all in the sturdy arms of more of those almost automaton-like servants.

“Oh, and don’t worry about poison,” Ten-Jiu reassured the guests, being the first to eat, “If we’d wanted you dead,” he continued, speaking while chewing, “you’d already be just that.” He swallowed and grinned and those skilled in sonic magic may have noticed him dampening sound around the ears of the child who had grudgingly taken a seat beside him. Mr. Wei shot more than one anxious glance in his son’s direction, but Yong seemed quite oblivious to it all.

“Indeed,” Ten-Re agreed with his brother. “You’ve been called here, in good faith, to discuss how we might avert a conflict that will surely prove ruinous not only to the parties gathered at this table but, more importantly, to this land and the millions of people who call it home.”

Ten-Jiu nodded, tearing chunks off of a bloody rare steak with predatory eagerness. “Mhm,” he followed up, “They’re everything. They’re why we do this. They’re why we have the laws about magic I’m sure you’ve all noticed and questioned by now.” He shook his head and gestured with his chopsticks in his brother’s direction. “His big idea, by the way.” The emperor snorted. “Never woulda come up with it myself.”

“Retan is too big,” clarified Ten-Re, and he shook his head with sad determination. “It was falling apart under the later Jiang emperors. Aside from the last one -” He paused. “No offense, my dear.” He smiled apologetically in Xiulan’s direction. “- they were good people, and they tried their level best to rule well.”

“But an empire like this doesn’t work with ‘good people’ at the helm.” Ten-Jiu managed to not quite glare at Wu Long. “Nah. It needs mean bastards, like us!” He scowled and dabbed at his lips with a silk kerchief. “It requires fear and power at the top and then softer, more accessible layers beneath. This is, of course, regrettable, but utterly necessary.” Ten-Re shook his head. “Better some smaller harms for the greater good than the absolute chaos that would ensue if magic was freely available to everyone in our great nation.”

Most of the Black Guard ate in silence, though some, like the massive, stocky man who they now recognized as Sleeping Carp, did not eat at all. Golden Monkey stuffed his face greedily, stealing, angry, paranoid, predatory glances at some of the students. Smoking Bandit scarcely took his pipe from his mouth to chew. Evil Eye chatted gaily with the others. Laughing Squid seemed on edge and one who they hadn’t seen before, who had to be Stormcloud, distinctly awkward. Cold Soup merely studied those with her, while Mountain Spring was already into his second bottle of baiju. Lucky Dragon and Wu Long played eye tag from across the table, both trying to look like they were ignoring the other. Yawen stole glances as well, periodically, in her father’s direction as he encouraged Yong to eat by making it into a game. In general, people spoke in a dance, their conversational feet perched perilously on a razor’s edge between the functionally casual and matters of the most dire importance.

Then, as they were being served a sweet and savoury variety of desserts, Ten-Jiu leaned back and patted his stomach. “Now that we’re fully and happy,” he announced, ruffling Yong’s hair again, “comes the part where we all kill each other.” He picked something from between his teeth and grinned wickedly, “Or, rather, we kill anyone who decides to fuck with us.”

Ten-Re scowled deeply. “My brother speaks with an uncultured tongue, and it does nothing to bring us closer to an equitable solution.” He stood and spread his arms, the very voice and picture of reason. “I would heartily prefer for us to avoid a costly conflict,” he entreated. “With this in mind, we have brought all living major players in this little drama to the stage at once,” Ten-Jiu clarified. They were presently eating some sort of cookie each. As they bit down, Most found themselves biting into a tiny metal plate. On these were simple instructions. “At your earliest convenience, I would like you to take a walk with the person named on those plates you’ve just discovered, separately, for the sake of privacy. They will listen to you and make you an offer. For those of you who accept, rich rewards will await. For those who don’t…” Ten-Re trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, and Ten-Jiu stabbed the last piece of steak with his knife. Thin, oily blood dripped from it to pool in his plate before he shoved it into his mouth and chewed with a toothy smile.

“作为一个国王，你吃得很乱!” (You really make a mess of your food, for a king!) Yong pointed out. The emperor reached out and gave the boy a little flick behind the ear.

---

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Xiuyang returned to her room in the merchants' district of the student dormitories, bag in her hand. Stuffed full of correspondence and other trinkets, it would soon join the pile on her desk. Or rather, piles. On the right, there was the small 'urgent, definitely going to read' pile. To the left was the 'semi-promising, maybe' pile. Then a 'hard maybe' pile after that, and finally, a 'junk mail' pile, which was not the conspicuously empty trash can on the floor next to it. She was a merchant, after all, and sometimes a little advertising could serve as inspiration. She was also a skilled binding mage, and had made a habit of recycling paper for her own purposes. Not a scrap of parchment that was sent Xiuyang's way was wasted. Yes, her room reflected her nature. She was disorganized. Messy, even—but efficient.

Sorting through the various letters, she would eventually find one with her family's own seal on it. That is, the Esparza family's seal, as her father hardly used his own anymore. She held it up, feeling its weight. It was light—definitely her father's style. Her mother would have filled it to the brim with pleasantries and the gossip of Torragon, which she also enjoyed, to the detriment of her limited time. Cautiously optimistic, but eagerly, she employed what scant understanding she had of magnetic magic to find her letter opener from among the detritus that littered her desk, and had her father's words in her hands in short order.

---

A riddle or two for my dearest little girl:

When the west wind changes direction, does the east feel its heat? Or, does she perceive the smell of smoke on the air?

When blood is in the water, do the threshers resist its call? Or, do those caught in the waves not cry for salvation?

Can five-fingered hands form a seal? Or, can one stop a deluge with one's palms?

I look forward to hearing from you. Let your unique insight guide you. Yours in confidence.

---

Xiuyang nodded her head along as she transcribed the coded message in her head with the proper cipher. The words were cryptic, but not encoded with an agreed-upon lingo. When her father wrote of concrete business opportunities that she was, without question, intended to act upon, there were specific code words to watch for. Every client, every country, every business, and every established meeting place had a specific code name. More vague, 'riddle me this' propositions were more like friendly advice. The meaning was clear to Xiuyang—perhaps to anyone else who had been paying attention to the situation in ReTan, as well. With the first line, he was covertly asking her if she'd been paying attention, herself. The second line appeared to imply that the course of events there had taken a turn for the inevitable. The third postulated that the Twin Emperors—the two hands—and their ten fingers, the Black Guard, may be facing a foe or a force they cannot abate. The possibility existed that they were, proverbially, a 'sinking ship.' He seemed to be suggesting that she investigate the matter.

As she placed the paper down, it became blank, as the ink wet, removed, and stored itself in a nearby ink pot for future use. Rather than destroy the letter, she placed it beneath her desk on top of a pile of other blank sheets of paper. She sat in her chair for a moment, alone with her thoughts. What she was considering was certainly dangerous. It would be best to go with someone else, but she didn't exactly have any options. Everyone that she even vaguely trusted to protect her life had been sent on various missions. With that in mind, she sat in her chair, meditating as she drew upon every source of energy she could. The stack of papers weren't exactly in short supply, so one at a time, they became potential energy. Every ounce of heat in the room was slowly drawn to her. Xiuyang felt a nearby bottle of previously warm beer start to frost over, and without missing a beat, she quickly reached over to chug it before it became completely frozen.

Once she had finally drawn enough to feel a slight pressure inside her head, she stood up. Her room had gone dark—and soon she would as well. She strapped her medicine box to her right hip as usual and, with no guarantee of protection at her destination, she reluctantly grabbed her bagh nakhs. Practiced kinetic magic with a touch of magnetic opened the door to Xiuyang's room automatically as she approached it. As she stepped through it, she vanished. She walked, silently and invisibly, with grim determination. The stakes were high, and exactly one person she trusted could help her reach her destination on short notice. She reached out, trying to sense Jocasta's presence.

---

Xiuyang sat on the railing of the balcony, enjoying the view from her vantage point above the group. ReTan was a new, but familiar sight. It was like looking at an image of a nostalgic childhood dream, depicting an event that may or may not have ever actually happened. However, one look down at the scurrying locals, or one look up and to the side at the smoldering mountain would turn the surreal atmosphere into a nightmare. Thankfully, she already possessed a mask that could filter the air she breathed.

Suddenly, Xiuyang felt eyes on her. It seemed the group had finally noticed her, once Jocasta had pointed in her direction. Holding her hat and medicine box in place, she kicked off the railing, landing with an impossibly soft noise as her boots absorbed the harsh, second story impact. "Knee, how! Oraff keyp jhou, frens!" she greeted with a phony accent, clearly to amuse herself. Her mouth hadn't moved an inch. Instead, her face was covered with a mask that emitted a voice for her. It was the voice of a much more mature woman than suited Xiuyang. An invisible smirk was almost certainly responsible for the change in her eyes' expression. "My name is legally Salomé, but call me Xiuyang. Or else," she added playfully. "Most of you don't know me. Some of you think you do, but you don't." She shot Yalen and Jocasta a cheeky and knowing wink. "I'll cut to the chase. Neither the school nor the church sent me here. I'm here for my own personal business. What that is, is for Oraff to know, and for me to hopefully find out sometime today. Does it have anything to do with that over there?" She gestured behind herself with a thumb, pointing at the 'that' in question, as if the aftermath of Ingrid's spell were an equivalent crisis to a jellied toast that had landed jelly-side down.

Some of the students may have tried to convince her to leave, either because it was too dangerous, a second binder wasn't necessary, or she in general wasn't 'needed.' However, she was undeterred by their words, which received only more cheeky answers in response. It was the realization that she'd been provided with an outfit to wear at the audience with the Twin Emperors that gave her pause, though. How was it possible that they already knew she'd be here? Only her father should know that there was even a chance she'd be here. The letter should have been impossible to decipher, unless their information network was compromised. She was pretty sure her entry into ReTan had been flawless. She hid, invisibly, in the shadow of Jocasta's raw magic power, until they were well enough away from the portal that she'd blend in with the crowd. Nobody, not a single soul should know that she was here, associated with this group of students. She seemed genuinely disturbed as she looked over the garment, her mind racing with endless possibilities. One thing was clear. Her presence was not requested.

They were demanding she show up.

First, she tried to sense magic on the garments provided. This turned up nothing, but she wasn't satisfied. "Give that here," she said as she reached out for the one that was, eerily and unmistakably, marked with her full name. She reached out to hold it, somewhat reluctantly. Feeling it in her hands, it seemed unnaturally soft and luxurious, but otherwise perfectly normal—until the skin on her hands began to turn red and itch. "Cazzo! Damned royals and their unique dyes!" Her voice rang more annoyed than disturbed at this point. She swore several more times as she reached for her medicine box to retrieve something to get rid of the itching problem. Nobody else seemed to have this reaction to the fabric, except her. At first, it seemed like it might be allergies. She did wear an air-filtering mask at all times, after all, and never really told anybody why.

Eventually, however, it was deduced that Xiuyang's hands weren't breaking out in hives over mere paranoia. The realization of the plushtail oil plot came among an avalanche of other information that was new to Xiuyang as the others, mostly Maura, brought her up to speed on current events. During the discussions, she didn't say much, but those that watched her carefully could see her calm, cool cat demeanor slowly fade as she began to take it all in, eventually being replaced with an almost 'fed up with it' attitude. After she was brought up to the current moment, she announced rather flatly that she was going for a walk. Some wondered aloud if she'd be coming back. She eventually would, after taking some time in the markets to clear her mind. She won an action figure as a lottery prize, which didn't help her mood.

---

While the group were preparing to be taken to the Forbidden Quarter, there was a sudden commotion. Xiuyang and her much, much larger and beefier escort were arguing angrily in unintelligibly rapid Rettanese. Jocasta was trying to figure out what was going on before he'd get fed up and start beating her to a pulp. "She can't to wear face covering in presence of Emperors! Magic item is forbidden!" he roared. "Like I've told this oaf, I can't take it off," she shot back. "Never mind that I can't speak without it. I breathe the wrong air, I die." Her words certainly seemed sincere. There was no small number of rumors on campus about why she covered her face and skin, and this might be yet another. Regardless of the truth of the matter, Jocasta was apparently vouching for Xiuyang. "Fine! But she must to cover ugly mask with cloth! Is looks very evil!" he finally relented. Xiuyang scoffed, probably about to make some comment about how it was less ugly than him, but Jocasta shot her a glare that said "just stop."

With that slightly terrifying episode out of the way, they were off. Xiuyang hadn't been carried anywhere since she was a child, and it was kind of surreal. Being stared at made her uncomfortable. She was used to blending in even without trying. Meeting a stranger's eyes usually preceded a confrontation. Well—this was about to be the confrontation of a lifetime, she supposed. Once the crowds were gone, she was able to settle down just a little as she admired the scenery. Ah. A fine place to die. She had enough tact in her to not say it, but she certainly thought it. As they slowly approached their destination, Xiuyang eventually supposed she should be trying to come up with some kind of plan. What could she realistically do if things turned south, though? Run? Run where? Run how? She'd be caught eventually. The Devourer mana type didn't let her draw energy fast enough to remain both mobile and invisible indefinitely. That was assuming that her illusion magic even worked on these monsters in the first place.

And at last, upon arrival, she learned that she'd have to leave her medicine box behind, to top it all off. She was screwed. Coming here was unequivocally a mistake. She should have fled the moment she laid eyes on those poisoned garments—damn the consequences. It was all she could do now to put on a frosty exterior and hope that her apparent lack of intimidation passed their bullshit radar.

---

So it was that Xiuyang remained eerily silent through most of the dinner, her face unreadable behind the veil of cloth which covered her mask. She spoke hardly a word, except some small pleasantries exchanged in fluent Rettanese with the servants who brought the food, and others who shot pointed questions in her direction, to which she responded with characteristically Rettanese answers. That is to say, she spoke evasively and in riddles, as was apparently the local custom. In fact, she spoke nary a word of Avincian the entire time, seemingly hesitant to even speak to her supposed allies. Was she trying to play at being the 'reasonable one' of the group? Was she losing her nerve?

On the contrary, unbeknownst to anyone but her—Xiuyang's guard might have dropped as she listened to the Emperors speak. She spent enough time on the water to recognize a drowning fish. Though it may not appear so to untrained eyes, the Twin Emperors were weak, and desperate to appear strong, by her reckoning. One of them seriously dropped the "you'd be dead if we wanted you to be" line without so much as a hint of ironic mirth, and she'd just barely resisted the urge to laugh. The other put forth the same "for the greater good" excuse that history had recorded many times before. Xiuyang could practically see, in her mind's eye, her aged self reading to her grandchildren about the fall of the Ten Dynasty in one of her history books. She supposed she'd expected more philosophical depth from the elder sanguinaires.

That's not to say that she'd been rude or disruptive during the dinner; Xiuyang's manners were impeccable. She sat upon her legs in the proper way, hands in her lap when appropriate, as a model to her fellow students. She was also one of the first among them to bring a morsel of food to her mouth, though it was not entirely clear how she could eat with her mask on. She believed that the meal was likely not poisoned, but she was confident in her poison resistance besides. Her etiquette regarding tea—a notoriously difficult subject—was flawless as well. Eventually she would let the mirth of the party get to her a little, and she'd tilt her head back to chug some alcohol. Her intake could nearly match that of the drunken Mountain Spring, though if she'd gotten even the slightest bit drunk, she didn't show it. Only one thing was on her mind. The Twin Emperors might be in a weakened position—but she lacked the means to either communicate or capitalize on her suspicions. If only she'd had the time to develop some clandestine method of communicating with the others, they might have had something.

That was when the Twin Emperors made their offer. Rich rewards to those that joined them—or a violent end.

Xiuyang was an enigmatic addition to the group of youths. Why was she there? Had the 'old guard' of Ersand'Enise—those sympathetic to the Ten Dynasty—sent her to assist in defusing the situation? If so, she wasn't putting much effort into it. Why would she voluntarily get involved? Was she hoping to tip the scales of the conflict and profit from the fallout? Did she know what she was getting into? Was she entirely of sound mind? Both the students of Ersand'Enise and the Black Guard of ReTan showed signs of divided opinion. Some viewed her with suspicion, others shot her hopeful and expectant glances. None of the lingering questions or speculation seemed to bother Mountain Spring, who approached her as she was quietly eyeing the coin in her hand, playing with it with her fast, mercantile fingers. Before he'd get the chance to sweep her off her feet, Xiuyang shot Jocasta an eerily 'final' glance—like she suspected this could be farewell. She was afraid.

Fittingly, she was paired with the notorious drunk of the guards. At least he didn't reek, for now. "C'mere you." He gestured for the quarter-Rettanese to come over with a jolly smile and a light tint of pink on his cheeks. Women of lesser constitution would have balked at his 'uncouth' approach. Certainly, many noble ladies who sprang to mind would complain about his casual address and beckoning hands—but not her. Contrary to the stiff manners she had displayed thus far in the proceedings, she merely lifted a brow at the man, as if to suggest that she too was curious about where this was going to go. Incidentally, where it was going was up. When at arms' reach, her shoulders were seized and she was launched in the air with great force. One instant, Xiuyang was standing there among her peers—and the next, she wasn't. Mountain Spring quickly followed her up into the sky. Xiuyang's coin fell to the ground with a harsh 'clink,' leaving the students to speculate about her intentions while the Black Guard howled with laughter. It seemed unlikely, to say the least, that she could survive combat with Mountain Spring for more than a few seconds—assuming he hadn't killed her just now.

"OUT! OUT! OUT!"

"Holy shit, Choran! They are ripping the place apart!"

"Marz! Wake up!"

Marz felt himself get ripped from his sleep as he heard yelling waking everyone up. When he hopped to his feet, Choran is there looking out the doorway. Choran turned to his cellmates and said, "They are tearing apart the bathroom! I think someone ratted us out. They are yelling at each other about an Anti-magic dampening device".

All within the cell seemed to have anger on their face, Choran, Mazan, and Marz held this face. All of them remembering that they had the device in their room and the moment they were caught they were going to face increadibly sever punishment. "Because of one rat everything is ruined!"

Marz pulled the item from his beard and began to look around, multiple ideas flew from each person, some said to make a crack in the wall, others said to put it back into his beard, others said to find a way to cram it up somewhere they would never want to look. Each person's idea came with a resounding barrage of rebuttals. With it came then curses, and then accusations.

"We wouldn't be swimmin' in shit if yer sor'ry ass didn't go and tell 'em about the device! What'd you do it for? Porridge?!" Choran yelled out, pointing a finger to Mazan.

"Porridge?! Your' belly achin' we 'ave no booze!" Mazan pushed Choran as he showed even in his age, he was still a smith.

More accusations continued to fly until everyone was winded, the guards had already began to search the rooms. Tearing them apart and even completely searching people. All the anger that was flying then began become ice cold, as Mazan, Marz, and Choran all looked to Khalud. Fire seemed to almost flow from their eyes as Marz stepped to Khalud.

"Ey! Why you lookin' at me like that?"

"It was you wasn't it?"

"ME?! Why would I!"

"You're always doing weird things at night".

"Last night you acted even weird last night, even ran off during the night"

"To the bathroom! If I wanted it found then I would have made it easy to find and put it there! I was writing to my family! I swear!" It was in that moment, Khalud realized he had said it and needed to show everyone now. He went off to grab his scroll and opened it to show the others. Choran snatched it and began to read it aloud quickly, finding it was just sappy letters to his family, and then a secret message, once pressed it was a code his wife knows, being for some more raunchy things. Choran looked at the scroll and then to Khalud with sheer disgust.

It was then, Marz knew who it was, but he kept his mouth shut. He could feel it the moment he heard what was going on. Khalud couldn't he would have told them it was in their cell. There was really only one person who knew it was in the bathroom. Only one person would have known.

During this time, all of the other cells were being thoroughly searched and the people in them too. Everything within was being torn apart, even if it was bolted down, it was pushed and pulled apart. The yelling became much closer as they began to hear what was being said. Everyone looked to each other as they realized that they needed to get the device out of the cell to a place that's already been searched.

Each of them, looked to each other as Choran said with a near yell, "I knew it was you! You fuckin' bastard Khalud!". Choran then took hold of Khalud's shirt and tried to swing at him.

Marz could see it, in an instant he understood what Choran was doing and took hold of Choran and pulled him away. "You're always tryin' to blame others! Now yer turned on yer own!" In that moment he turned his cheek and Choran threw a punch, sending him back slightly.

Wordlessly Choran and Marz traded blows, allowing for all who looked in to see them. Khalud took this time to hide the device in his clothing, given his ample form, while also hiding in the corner away from the brawl.

The moment the guards arrive to break up the fisticuffs, they took their batons and hit Marz and Choran, taking them to the ground and then drag each of them away. All the while Choran yelled, "Don't think this is over Khalud! I know it was you!". Seeing that Khalud is under suspicion, the guards treated him deferentially and didn't rough him up or search him, seeming to stoke more of this idea. Marz wasn't so fortunate in this situation, as he was hauled off to solitary confinement for the day, he was told before he was left alone, "A day in the tank oughta learn you".

Marz was left in a holding cell breifly made of solid and clean bars. Off in the distance he could hear the rest of them yelling, yet as it quieted down he could hear in the distance a quiet conversation with the voice of someoen he was familiar with, "But you promised: me and me pa. We get out if I do it".

Then a male one cut through, one with a strong Vossoriyan accent, "If we recover this 'device'." the man left a pause, "We didn't. How do I know you're not lying just for preferential treatment?"

"Piss on you, ya bloody liar! I talked ta him. I told ye where it is. If ye didn't find it, they either pulled a fast one or you're naff at searchin'. I'm done sellin' out my people for ya!"

"No, you aren't." the man seemed to leave an even longer pause. "You bring us the device, your father still gets to walk out of here with you".

"Aye, I can wait a few more months".

Dead silence floated in the air for moments before the man spoke once more, "I think you'll find that a bad idea, Venna".

Marz listened intently, hanging on the words, he needed to know, he needed it confirmed. The moment he heard the man speak her name, Marz knew, Venna had been the one to rat them out. He sighed, standing up as he patted himself off, he could hear the 2 sets of footsteps coming towards him, he knew what was to come.

2 larger men in padded armor came barging into his room, taking him by his shirt collar and nearly throwing him out of his holding cell. Marz had never been man handled by as he was, but these men were able to lift him like a child and throw him around. Through these tunnels that were dark and dreary, unable to see anything but his own hands infront of him, he could hear the moans and groans of others.

Slowly as they move through the area, Marz was able to see the light bounce off the walls, it almost seemed oily within the stone tunnel, as once they made it to the cavern where they have solitary confinement, there were multiple clean steel plates with a single hole poked through. From these covers Marz could hear voices coming from them, either people groaning and moaning, or even whispers from within. Once they had entered, one of the guards walked over to one of the lids and opened it, the moment it was fully risen, Marz felt a sharp pain in the back of his head as he was forced forward as he fell into the hole. The hole was 10 feet deep and Marz felt every moment of the fall. With the moment Marz landed, he felt his shoulder fire off with pain. He had only a moment to look up before the lid was dropped, and a resounding and violent 'bang' was sent through the hole Marz was in.

Within the pit, Marz could see from the light refracting from the oiled walls within. He could smell the oil and it was intense, making it nearly impossible to breath. As Marz began to look around he notice the hole was thin and difficult to move without nearly slipping. Within there he was given nothing other than a bucket. Marz could only sigh as he began to sit down, but found out that he was unable to fully sit without crossing his legs, let alone sleep his time away.

All he was left with was his thoughts, and the dull ringing of a bell telling them when it was time to eat or sleep.

"Well ain't that a bitch?"

---

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---

What had begun as a tense and standoffish meeting at the base of a large staircase had turned into a celebration of pure unfettered capitalism: a system that was, all told, fairly new to Vossoriya and not implemented particularly well by the ruling powers. It took hours, and most of that time was passed with the eight youths gleefully spending vast amounts of coin on a series of eclectic items. They spent with such gusto and glee - for the most part - that it soon became clear that their time in The Bunker was more than a mere shopping spree; it was cathartic. After all they had seen and experienced to this point, it was needed.

But they learned some things as well. Most importantly, it was Roslyn who learned something of Marz’s last whereabouts, for some hope was still held - cautiously among them - that he remained among the living. It was the early afternoon as they came down the stairs, Sven and Penny in the midst of an argument. “It’sh jusht treshpasshing,” he insisted, shaking his head adamantly. “Maybe they’re up to shomething. Maybe they’re not, but we can’t jusht go barging in and expect them not to defend themshelves.”

“You can call it whatever you like, Sven, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re dirty: clearly.” It was Penny’s turn to shake her head. “They’re not normal ‘monks’ and they’re hiding something.” She was annoyed. It was clear. Yuliya, who normally seemed her best friend and ally among the group, had more or less sided with Sven and it was ever the habit of the Perrenchwoman to dig in her heel and lash out like a cornered animal when she felt outnumbered.

“You don’t go into holy place uninvited and just start beating priest,” Yuliya decided with a scowl, and Penny rolled her eyes and sighed. “Is basic common sense. St. Artyom’s are…” She trailed off. For what it was worth, they were not known as a militant order. The level of force they had displayed was still odd if the others were to be believed. “Allowed to have their privacy, no?” she concluded after a brief pause. Penny relented, going quiet, a wedge that was only temporary driven between the two friends. “Well, we know about that Blacksmith,” Rosyln recommended, finding her voice among the large group of semi-familiar people. “We could try that?”

---

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The Collapse

It was no cleaner than it had looked some two days earlier. They stood outside of the Collapse, where they’d been told that Vladimir, the blacksmith, could be found. It was a grim place that reeked of death. Carrion birds circled overhead and the last remnants of the other day's late Stresian snowfall were still melting away. Every once in a while, the dozens of rescuers and salvagers pulled someone out, still blessedly alive, but it had been almost a day since the last one. Far more common were the bodies: mangled or frozen. The debris of people's lives - their homes, businesses, and possessions - was scattered, wilting in the sun and the mud among the great boulders and lesser rubble of the fallen cliffs. Yet, those unscrupulous enough found opportunity here. Valuables remained to be picked, and even artifacts of the sacred caves below. Some in the bunker and about town had hinted at the presence of a great treasure below. Perhaps it was this, as much as altruism or a concern for the possible last handful of survivors, trapped in pockets within the disaster zone, that drove the continued efforts.

The group of foreign students proved unable to resist at least trying, and they spent the next two hours picking and digging through the rubble. If it was not quite what they were supposed to be doing, some convinced themselves that Marz might yet be in there. Others took solace in the fact that no less than three lives were saved by their intervention. Thousands of oubles worth of valuables were recovered, including a few items of exceptional power that were quickly and guiltily hidden away and hoarded.

The Hours of Oraff were giving way to those or Rezain by the time that they finally encountered Vladimir: a large, gruff man who spoke no more than a few words of Avincian. He led them back to his workshop, perched perilously close to the yawning chasm where once had been part of a town. There, with Yuliya to translate, he answered their questions. “Aye, tall for a hegelan, right? Reddish hair…” He trailed off, seeming to consider but perhaps really regarding them with a degree of suspicion. “Who’d you say he was to you again?”

There was a rapid exchange between him and Yuli, and the others, left in the dark about specifics, couldn’t help but let their eyes wander about the shop. That was when she spotted the child: a small hegelan boy, peering out from around a corner. When they locked eyes for a split second, he ducked behind it once more. Penny leaned in and tapped Yvain on the shoulder. “Regardez,” she whispered, pointing subtly in that direction, “et attends.” Sure enough, about twenty seconds later, the child poked his head out once again, stealing a glance at the strange people who spoke in a strange language. Finally, Yuliya was finished, and a small bag of coins exchanged hands. “He says Marz came by here with another boy - Nazih, I think - and learned about other problem in this town.” She shook her head. “Hegelans that come here go missing. He says maybe a dozen. Maybe a hundred, but it is known thing. He says this two boys mentioned heading for caves across from…” She trailed off, unable to find the word for a moment. “Monashtery,” offered Sven helpfully, and she nodded and pointed. “Yes, this.”

Penny was already starting to move. So was Roslyn. The former was tired and achy, to be perfectly honest. She was not built to walk long distances without magic, but she was terrified enough of being a burden that there was no chance of her offering any protest. Instead: “Is there any doubt now where we must go?” she prodded. In the event, there was none.

---

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The Monastery

The sun glistened golden upon the damp grass and scant remaining banks of snow and townspeople hustled about, finishing up their daily errands as the students docked in front of St. Artyom’s. One by one, they clambered out of the large skiff, footsteps thumping on the dock. Behind the walls and hedges, rising up into a large grotto, lay the monastery. Votive mosaics and wrought iron gatework greeted them. Beyond that, there was precious little to see. Yuliya decided to go first, clearing her throat and knocking on the gate. Any who had participated in the conflagration a few days earlier were kept back, out of immediate sight. Now, it was their turn to hide where, this morning, it had been Yuliya’s and Yvain’s.

It was close to a minute that they stood there, waiting, and Yuliya knocked a second time, for good measure. A little door in the thick iron slid open and, beyond it, was one of those monks in their red hats. “We are not accepting pilgrimages at the moment,” He informed her, voice tired and official-sounding. “given what’s happened in the town. All of our resources are needed in the rescue effort.” Yuli had just come from the rescue effort, however, and she had seen only a handful of monks at best.

Yuliya cocked an eyebrow in confusion. She’d not wanted to come to this place, but there were too many questions in her head now. Why weren’t there more monks at the wreckage? She hadn’t seen that many throughout her walk here from the town either, so where were they? Maybe the monk didn’t have the authority to answer her questions. She needed a holier person.
“We are not pilgrims. We’re here to speak to the Hegumen, if you wouldn’t mind.” she spoke politely, as whatever her doubts were about the situation, this was still a man of the gods.

He arched a dubious eyebrow at her, tamping down on whatever further rudeness may have risen within him. “And who are you, dear child, that you should be so exempt from the rules that others have to follow?” he harrumphed. “Does not Dami-Soluz teach us humility?”

”That he does, brother, but does he not also stand first among equals?” she retorted, a small confident smirk marking her face as she met his gaze. She’d never gotten to use these before, and oh boy was it exciting, but she sure hoped she hadn’t fucked up the words. How embarrassing that would be.

The monk froze for the briefest of moments, his face going still through the tiny sliding door and his eyes searching hers as if his mind were racing. After this pause, he nodded, and it was nearly seamless. “You make a very good point, Sudarynya.” He bowed his head. “I shall see if I can fetch him for you.” He reached up to close the portal. Yuliya held a hand out before he finished and coughed expectantly

“Oh yes. Sorry.” the monk cleared his throat. “Where are my manners?” He called back into the courtyard and a couple of others came hustling over. With their combined efforts, they heaved the gates open. “Please, step inside and he’ll be along.” However, upon sighting Sven and Esmii in particular, they froze, and their faces became stony. They whispered among themselves anxiously and their entire body language changed. It was clear to Yuli, even if she couldn’t quite hear it all, that there was something that these monks found deeply objectionable about her party, and she didn’t have to stretch her imagination very much to figure out what that was.

She turned back to Esmii and Sven, and scowled a little herself, before switching back to the same polite smile as she had done prior, leading the group into the monastery grounds. It would do them good to warm up, given the cold Vossoriyan night was soon to be afoot and the majority of her comrades were not used to such conditions, she’d seen as much on the way to Kirimansk. She turned once more and addressed them as they were walking ”Be respectful. We don’t want more incident.” as she playfully tugged Penny’s ear for a second before continuing and the Perrenchwoman batted her hand away and hissed.

The monks’ eyes darted warily back and forth, as if they were thinking of trying something. There was particular hostility in how they regarded Sven and Esmii. Perhaps the others were mundane enough not to stand out or simply hadn’t been recognized. Then, the monk in the red hat turned and barked some orders at his blue-hatted underlings: didn’t they have the gate to close? Then, as they knew, places to be? Didn’t they have the abbot to fetch? The students were left alone on the correct side of the heavy iron doors as further monks carried about their early evening business in the near distance. Had their magic been available to them, perhaps some of the students might’ve reached out and snooped. Yet, it was not, and they found themselves blind, in a sense, without it.

Then, finally, a small procession of six, with a seventh in the middle, began making their way from one of the larger buildings in the back, set against the cliffs. They wound their way towards the students and the figure in the middle - a tall, lean man of years rather advanced but just shy of elderly, dressed in fine clerical vestments - was clearly revealed to be the abbot. He pulled up in front of them, hands clasped before him. He inclined his head shallowly in regard, eyes suspiciously searching the others. “How may I be of service, my child?” he inquired in accented Avincean that was probably a shade better than Yuli’s. “Have you come seeking to bathe in the sacred pools, or is there some other blessing that you and these… foreign guests seek?”

Yuli addressed the man respectfully, bowing her head as he did, responding in Avincean “Greetings Hegumen, I seek blessing of Sveta-Shune, in regard to comrade of mine. Hegelan, red haired. Your brothers are searching around town, you have seen him?”

The abbot paused, mid-greeting, and furrowed his brow. “A hegelan?” he asked, face and voice tamping down on at least some degree of confusion. He gathered himself. “Greetings, of course. How rude of me, Sudarynya.” His eyes darted nervously in the direction of the others, at least two of whom had been recognized as having belonged to the interlopers from three days earlier. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Do they speak our language?” Yuli shook her head “Save for those two, no. But that one is deaf. she gestured to Khaliun, and then to Oksana.

“So then, why are you with them?” he prodded, forcing a casual note into his voice. “Are you safe? Is it safe to discuss the… operation in front of them?”

Yuli crooked her head to the side. What on earth was he talking about? Why would she not be safe? Something about this whole situation set her on edge. Operation? Did he mean the boxes? The anti magic zone? She already felt sick from being in this field, and this did not help her one bit.

”Why wouldn’t I be safe? And what operation?” she asked, a hint of authority to her tone, as if she was insulted by the prospect that she’d ever be in danger.

The abbot’s eyes narrowed, and he exchanged glances with three of the monks around him. “Who are you,” he asked with some authority of his own. “I think it is right that you should introduce yourself when coming into my house.”

Yuliya walked up to him, slowly. Her suspicion at this moment piqued, and instinctively, she found a verse from the Menushyn leaving her lips as her footsteps echoed around the abbey. ”They should not ask who enters a house of worship, but the intentions they hold, and the gait with which they walk” as she was now face to face with the abbot, looking up into his eyes expectantly, waiting for a tell which she hoped would not come.

For a moment, he merely appeared confused, before a light turned on. “For who they are now matters not -” He corrected himself “- less than who they were before they came… entered.” He regarded her suspiciously. “My child,” he responded, falling back on familiar ecclesiastical vernacular, “Why is it that you ask me to recite this verse now that I have not read since I was in the seminary?”

Before she had the chance to respond, however, Penny let out an exclamation and Sven picked up on it. “The magic,” he exclaimed in Eskandish, and that was a tongue that Yuli knew as well. It was back! Surely enough, she could feel it. “Your eminence!” shouted a red-capped monk rushing up the hallway. “Your eminence! There’s trouble down below It’s the heg -” He noticed the outsiders and cut off mid-word, stammering for something else to say. “Hegumen’s… correspondence. You have a new message!”

The sickness Yuliya felt in her stomach from the loss of her magic faded, but not from the shiftiness of this character. She had spoken to many men and women of the gods in her time, and any that were of his rank would not fumble his words with holy scripture the same way he had. The man running into the room and cutting his speech was but further giveaway that something deeply wrong was going on here, and she would get to the bottom of it. “You… you… insolent worm.” She practically shook with anger, and the words forced themselves out in Vossoriyan, but she knew hiding this conversation from her friends was pointless. She momentarily calmed herself to speak the tongue they all knew as she bit her lip to the point of puncture. “No more questions. Only truth. What is plan. What are you hiding?”

There was sweat beading on his forehead. He looked back at her and then at the others, making a small, quick gesture with three of his fingers at another monk. “This is no time to be questioning an Elder of the church! Can you not see there are urgent matters at hand?” He gestured in the direction of the monk who’d recently arrived bearing the news. For his part, the chubby young man was wide-eyed and useless. The abbot leveled a finger accusingly at the others, then, eyes bulging and face reddening. “And them! At least two, we recognize from the other day! That knife-ear and the big lummox there! They broke in here uninvited and now I have multiple brothers maimed for life!” he stalked forward, his meekness beginning to dissipate. “How dare you come here, whoever you are, with a stolen password and a group of rogues, and speak to me, a Hegumen, with such brazen disrespect!?” His eyes were lit with fury now. “I could have you locked up for that! Why, I should!”

Sven caught Yuliya’s eye for a moment. Penny looked to him and then to her, both of them speaking through their body language, asking the same question: “Should I?” How Yuliya wanted to rip this blasphemer’s head from his shoulders, but nay. She had spoken her part. She nodded to Sven, the comments about Esmii gave him right of way in this regard. She would be grateful if she was offered the same opportunity in these circumstances. He stepped forward, brimming with energy. “Who you calling a knife-ear, asshhole?” A mighty directional shockwave emanated from his hands as he clapped them together, and the sickly feeling of atomic radiation followed. Yet, when the massive clouds of dust that had been kicked up followed, the abbot stood there, utterly unbothered. His robes flapped in the wind and a smile of grim satisfaction spread across his face and a half-dozen more monks rushed up to join him. “Unofficially, I was hoping you’d make a mistake like that. Say your prayers, children.”

---

---

---

---

Xiuyang certainly hadn't expected to be thrown in the air. Her cool exterior shattered in an instant, her eyes as wide as anyone could imagine they'd be. If a muffled scream had escaped the confines of her mask, it had been drowned out by the rushing of air all around her. Instantly, she looked down at the shrinking figures of her friends and the Black Guard, and she immediately regretted it. Closing her eyes, Xiuyang seemed to almost accept her fate. She didn't draw an ounce of magic. Further still, she didn't even try. Had she already figured out that she couldn't, due to the plushtail oil laced into her garb? Did she truly not know any kinetic spells to save herself with? Or was she simply placing her life into the hands of Mountain Spring, whom she'd only just met?

She was going fast, too fast for an inexperienced Kinetic mage to prevent her fate.

“Beautiful weather, ain’t it?” Mountain Spring was by her now, in mid-air?! And then passed her so he could catch her, stop all momentum in an instant, and ensure she landed on her own, two feet. “Ni Hao!” he made the greeting gesture and bowed his head. “I figured we could use some space and nice scenery.”

---

After a brief moment in time that Xiuyang didn't quite fully process, she was on the ground, and thankfully the man had the courtesy to at least hold her up until the figurative jelly in her legs reconstituted into something resembling bones. They had landed on a small island near the middle of the residence’s pond. It was tranquil with a few fish surfacing near the shore and ducks quacking during their peaceful swim. Once she was able, she returned his greeting, bowing just a bit deeper than him—and finally, she spoke. "A pleasure, venerable Mountain Spring." Xiuyang's mask emitted a smooth and notably more mature voice than suited her age. It was the voice of her mother, though the man standing before her was unlikely to recognize it. The even-keeled voice she'd conjured forth couldn't conceal the heaving of her chest, the muffled sound of ragged breathing, or the shaking of her hands from the adrenaline rush she'd received, though. Taking a moment to actually compose herself, she continued. "Please, friend. There's no need to intimidate me. I'm a dedicated servant of Oraff. I deal in life, not death. You're in control."

Her first statement wasn't exactly a lie, but just from one touch of her shoulders, Mountain Spring could tell that she was at least capable of throwing a decent punch. She was certainly no fragile maiden. Her second statement was true, but also rather on the nose. It was the kind of thing a hostage might say to de-escalate. More specifically, the kind of blunt statement that someone who was trained to handle being in hostage situations would say. It might be an indication that his intimidation was working—or, she might be probing his intentions. Perhaps he understood as much, because he chose to ignore her concerns and keep up with that friendly smile of his.

“Here.” he had plucked a plum from the singular tree on the island and offered it to Xiuyang. “This - This will blow your mind, kid.” he winked and indulged in one as well. There was no rush with this man, as he seemed to be enjoying his time, almost as if he had forgotten why he was here.

At his prompting, she took in some of the scenery to clear her mind. She took the plum, and after admiring it for a second, brought it beneath the veil over her face. Now that he had been welcomed—more or less—into her personal space, Mountain Spring could detect a hint of binding magic as a bite-sized piece of the fruit was drawn into her mask, and reconstructed in her mouth for her to enjoy. She shot him a sideways glance, brow raised teasingly, as if to ask: "did you expect me to take it off?" Afterwards, she nodded in agreement. The flavor was incredible, even if some small part of it had almost certainly been lost in transmutation.

“Ahhhhh, that’s right!” he rubbed his hands together whilst giggling. “We’ve got business to do. I used to love haggling, y’know?” he nodded. “I remember, way back when the ol’ Jiangs still ruled, I could haggle literally anything. Anything. Even rice wine! I sometimes miss those that believed in them. They knew good business.” he kept nodding, his smile had faded into a light frown, and he kept looking at Xiuyang like he was confessing his regrets and they were both on the same wavelength. “The way I see it, it’s ancient history, all that exiling and feuding.” he waved his arm in the air in dismissal. “It can all be forgiven. They can come back home, if they so wish. Now that the Jiang Heiress has been betrothed to our Emperor and will become his true wife, this bloody history can finally be past ReTan!” he opened his arms in exaggerated theatrics, mouth full of fruit.

"Right. Business," she replied, her voice taking on a more severe tone, with notes of... disappointment? Regret? Mountain Spring's own mood seemed to match hers for just a moment as they both eyed each other, perhaps warily, but ultimately with some kind of mutual understanding. They both knew ReTan's history. They knew what had been lost before, during and after the last transition of power—what was at stake if the same were to happen again. Though, to Xiuyang, it was the distant memory of a deceased great-grandmother, and only kept alive by the residual bitterness of the former Jiang loyalists scattered throughout Virang and Torragon. Fading echoes of stories that were almost certainly biased, and perhaps exaggerated. Ripples of puerile animosity that rang hollow after four generations, having lost any semblance of purpose—just as Mountain Spring suggested.

“Does that not sound like a happy ending to you?” he prodded.

Truthfully, Xiuyang had not been impressed with the Twin Emperors during the garden party. One had the manners of a feral animal, with a lack of subtlety to match. The other had no sense of humor, and provided little in the way of higher reasoning. From elder sanguinaires, she'd expected... more. Just, more. Now, however, she was beginning to see their genius in choosing Mountain Spring to speak with her. Regardless of how much the power structure of ReTan and the Black Guard might be carrying those two, and regardless of how Xiuyang personally felt about them, their cleverness couldn't be denied.

Even evil could be admired for its cleverness. This, she knew very well. One might even call it a mantra of hers.

Despite the cookie-and-coin bit, Xiuyang had no doubt in her mind that she'd been set up with him. Over the short time they'd spent together, they'd certainly noticed each other's mutual love of alcohol. He'd blatantly used the suspension bridge effect to try to create an instant connection by getting her heart racing in his presence. He poked and prodded at the frosty exterior she'd manufactured for this occasion. He admitted to being both a haggler and a businessman in the past, and brought her family and past into it. Every little thing and every single word was carefully orchestrated to drop her guard—and he did it all while acting quite nonchalant. He was, in a word, good—or he was an idiot, stumbling into the correct moves. It was impossible to tell, which was exactly the kind of dubious facade Xiuyang had spent her life crafting. As she mulled it over, she looked at Mountain Spring with a kind of admiration, like a prodigious pupil might regard a master of her craft. She'd have to give it her all during this negotiation—not even to deceive Mountain Spring, or to prove that she was craftier than he was.

No. This was a matter of respect. Mountain Spring purely and simply deserved her best shot.

---

"It's an undeniably elegant political solution. ReTan is good at producing those," Xiuyang replied, the vocalizations of her mask unreadably ambiguous in tone. "A happy ending? I daresay it is the privilege of the newlyweds to know for sure—and the right of historians to decide the facts," she'd add, with an unequivocally cynical touch. She didn't deny for a second that the two would be wed, according to the plans of the Twin Emperors. She seemed to simply assume that they would get what they wanted.

Xiuyang's mask ejected a small cloud of impurities it had absorbed out the sides with a soft 'hiss' as she sighed wearily. "If only it were all so simple. Many a bickering couple hope that their problems will go away after the wedding. Many are disappointed by the result," she said as she tossed the plum playfully in her hand. "It's the children who pay the price most dearly." She held the plum for just a moment, letting her words hang poignant in the air. She seemed to be insinuating that she'd experienced something of the like. Catching herself, she took another 'bite' of her plum, and shot Mountain Spring a wink.

"As for our displaced people," she resumed, with the detachment of a historian performing an autopsy on an empire that was not their own, "—I doubt many of them will wish to return to their former lands, assuming they were offered such. They've married into the nobility of the east, you see. They love their magic. It makes them feel powerful and important, so I doubt they'll give it up—and they do so very much love their precious 'Liberty.' They've funded countless atrocities in the name of preserving it," she remarked coldly. Truthfully, though she may have been playing it up a bit for Mountain Spring, she had no love for the nobility of the east. They didn't fight for 'freedom.' They fought for 'Liberty,' which was only afforded to the wealthy classes of certain races. The poor, the immigrants, and the Yasoi—they stood to benefit little—but the worst of their sins was the cost of it all. "Dami's judgment upon them all. What good is 'Liberty' to the dead? The dead do not choose." Xiuyang concluded her diatribe, catching her plum and squeezing, letting the red juices drip to the ground as her words hung in the air.

Seeming to catch herself again, her eyes betrayed the smallest hint of a hidden smile. "As for me? Well, much as I'd love to believe that bygones can be bygones... I can't say I'd offer my enemies the same. Rather, I daresay I wouldn't grant someone in my position the dignity of being a concubine in my court. 'Rich rewards?' Pff," she scoffed. "The direct descendant of my enemy is one thing... but the descendant of a former supporter of my enemy who's not even half-Rettanese? Come on," she playfully chided with a wink. "I'm willing to listen to anything you have to say, friend. I'm not opposed to your optimism. I envy it. —but I'll need more than the good report of one of the Emperors' closest confidants. Convince me that their word is worth something—that betraying my friends is worth the lost connections, the loss of repute I've built in Ersand'Enise and the Ensollian Sea. Come now, Mountain Spring. You speak my language. I'll require a generous offer to offset my opportunity costs." There was a note of challenge in her voice, as if she were daring him to try to offer her something she didn't already have. "Many men have tried to seduce me with promises of more. More money, a bigger palazzo... a more loyal lover," she added with some slight irritation. "Help me out here, friend. Make it make sense."

She slowly opened her arms, mirroring Mountain Spring's exaggerated theatrics—and passing the ball to his court.

“Ayaaahhh, you’re quite the haggler yourself, aren’t ya’, Miss Solari?” laughed the Black Guard with the rosy cheeks. “A high class envoy of an even more prestigious family is no easy buy.” he scratched his chin with his index finger. Then, he grumbled. “Tsk. I’m almost inclined to say you’re overstepping, my fair lady. What would the Sage and the Scoundrel think if they found out I couldn’t bring one of our greatest bridges to Constantia into the table?” he cleared his throat as he reached for the gourd he kept strapped to his belt. “Sometimes, you gotta take risks, right?”

"If one wishes to haggle, the first step is to overstep," Xiuyang replied with a wink. "That's just good business. I mean no disrespect." She offered a half-bow of apology as she approached, once again at his beckoning. Spring gestured for her to come closer, and the reek of Baiju was strong on him. His cheeks reddened a bit more too. The smell of alcohol didn't offend her, though. “You know of Ai-Medda, yes? Of course you do.” he grinned whilst extending his container as an invitation to share his drink with her. She nodded, accepting the man's drink. Boy, could she chug. She was still on her feet, though a bit unsteady.

“I heard a rumour that you were rather popular among the Yasoi.” She nodded again as he acknowledged her relationship with the Yasoi, returning his drink with a look of piqued interest. She silently listened to the man speak, offering no interjections until the end. Her eyes offered every indication that she was taking his offer very seriously. The increasingly drunken man let out a brief chortle before he continued. “For a Yanii, anyway.” then, he took another sip from his booze. “Ahh. Well, we intend to Protect the Protectorate, of course. And the Tarlonese are in for a gruesome surprise.” then another sip. “Truth be told, it is a controversial choice made by not only the Twins, but us advisors. But … It may be averted.” no longer was he this jolly man, and instead came off as one of these chronically depressed men alone in bars. “The decision may still be overturned, and you could make it happen. Ai-Medda retreats, the land abandoned for the Tarlonese Yasoi, and no unnecessary blood is spilt.” he went for his fourth swig after levelling with his shorter negotiation partner.

“What we have now, Xiuyang, is burying the strained past with the Jiang loyalists with Jiang Xiulan taking the role of primary wife of Ten-Jiu. Our exiled compatriots would be our privileged liaison to Constantia with the permission to return to the motherland as privileged foreigners wielding magic.” he crossed his arms to think - there was something else. He was definitely inebriated, but not enough to slur his words just yet. “Ah yes! And, you would be the one to have negotiated the retreat of Ai-Medda before any show of power can be made.” he raised his gourd in the air in a celebratory manner. “Your offer, Miss Solari! All that for just an instance of good faith cooperation. And a gesture, of course. Our words only mean so much.”

Privately, Xiuyang was naturally conflicted. She'd given Mountain Spring too much ground in acknowledging the loss of life during the power vacuum that would ensue were the Twin Emperors to fall, and now he'd brought even more lives into it. She'd emerged confident from their first verbal bout, but was losing steam. She definitely noticed Mountain Spring's inebriated state. Perhaps, with a bit of stalling, she could manage... something.

"Hm," she hummed thoughtfully, shifting her weight between her feet indecisively. She leaned just a bit too far towards Mountain Spring before apparently deciding that it'd be best if she sat down, this time in a posture that ill-suited a "high class envoy of an even more prestigious family," as he'd put it. While she played at being drunk, herself, she considered the man's words. She scoffed internally at the idea of "privileged foreigners." Their magic use would be called a privilege rather than a right, so it could more easily be taken away later—but she didn't imagine that saying as much would be very productive. If the other Rettanese in Virang and Torragon wanted to throw themselves to the wolves, so be it. She was more concerned about what she was being offered, and the Yasoi lives that may be on the line. "You'd have me give up the merchant life for politics, is that it? Fancy myself the 'Guardian of the Yasoi,' would I? Well, that all certainly sounds appealing, on paper," she confessed, though still appearing skeptical.

It didn't. It sounded positively nauseating. She hated politicians, especially useless ones—and useless she would be, under the watchful eyes of the Twin Emperors. She imagined herself surrounded by spies and assassins at all hours of the day as she was allowed to feel important, to the degree that she could overturn a decision made by the Twin Emperors themselves and, possibly, up to half of the venerable Black Guard. There wasn't even a guarantee that this was a real decision that was being made. If it was a genuine threat prepared in advance, then should he not offer her some kind of paperwork as proof? She considered asking for it, but... what if the sight of it made her heart waver in the end? She decided to believe that, with the ongoing rebellion, they didn't have the resources to pursue expansion in Tarlon. They simply couldn't, she told herself vehemently—but for now it would be best if she acted like she believed them to be the all-powerful force they saw themselves as.

She'd also have to match their callousness, somewhat, if she were to keep any hope of standing her ground.

"Hwee-heeheehee-heheh." A good-natured chuckle escaped the confines of her mask, muffled as it was.

"I fear you mistake me for some bleeding heart, Jeanney-do-gooder." Despite her apparent condition, her voice remained smooth and coherent, though her vocabulary took a turn for the casually inebriated. "Sure, I love them guys back at the school, but popular? That's pushin' it, friend. The Yasoi don't appreciate a favor from a Yanii. What's in it for me? Nothing, that's what. I ain't looking to be some 'Governor of Longwan' type, either." She pointed an unsteady finger at Mountain Spring, her words cutting rather cynically. It was within her own heart that the words cut deepest, however. To speak of her dear Jamboi's race in this way..! —but haggle, she must. Everyone's survival may hang on letting this man slowly get shitfaced. If Mountain Spring got drunk enough, could she somehow bargain for everyone's lives?

"My Brother in the Way, have I not demonstrated good faith by throwing myself helplessly into the arms of your Emperors? What is this 'gesture' you require, anyhow?" she asked, genuinely curious. "Gonna suck my blood and turn me into one of yours? Do I gotta wear some cursed trinket-or-other? Drink a Traveler-inspired poison to keep my manas on a tight leash? What's the catch, hm?"

She narrowed her eyes at Mountain Spring. The possibility of turning her was ostensibly there, but the trust was still lacking. He hadn't exactly given her a reason to think that the Twin Emperors were men of their word. Her criticism of the political marriage solution had gone unacknowledged, as well. Perhaps, she hoped, it was because her concerns were valid, and he was simply refusing to allow her confirmation that she had ground to stand on. After all, any deals she might make with the sanguinaires were null and void if they all 'tragically' died.

Spring looked to be listening, but was he? His eyes seemed to easily drift to any distraction that came, but quickly darted back to the masked negotiator with the silver tongue. That laugh, oh that laugh, it made him down three gulps of the good stuff. His bottle was beginning to look light and he looked a little wobbly. Then, silence. The catch was not coming, just as the light in his eyes had not returned since he had downed his biggest chug yet.

Suddenly he straightened, blinked and looked down to Xiuyang with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “Aha. Yes. What is it you're offerin' again, young lady?” he stifled a little burp after inquiring with a dopey smile.

Mountain Spring appeared to be getting drunker by the second, but was he? Or was he mirroring Xiuyang's own pretend drunkenness trick? She wasn't skilled enough with chemical magic to know. As for why he might have done it, that answer was obvious: to dodge the question. However, pressing the issue would earn her nothing. On the contrary, a little 'misunderstanding' could provide her an opportunity—to make a counteroffer. To lower the stakes.

"C'mere you." She parroted a similar, but distinctly feminine version of his own voice back at him, patting the ground beside herself, motioning for him to sit. "Let's take a step back, yeah? The Yasoi thing, it's interesting. Let's shelve it for now though. Your Emperors want to make me a deal, but surely not just one, right? An ongoing partnership is ideal, no? So, let's start with something with lower stakes. We can roll higher once there's been some trust and goodwill established. For now, I'd like to save my dumb friends from dying. I'm sure you don't really wanna kill those kids. Let me talk to the ones who refuse. If they won't listen to reason from a sanguinaire, maybe they'll hear it from me."

She shifted, leaning back a little, still looking a bit drunk. "Think about it. The Emperors get a front-row demonstration of my negotiation skills. If they aren't impressed, they can send me away with no deal. Neither of us gains or loses anything. It's my one-hundred-percent risk-free guarantee." She winked. "If I can change their minds, they leave ReTan forever—exiled and with empty pockets, but alive. If they refuse, then they accept whatever justice the Emperors see fit to administer."

Xiuyang crossed her figurative fingers and silently prayed. She hoped her offer seemed reasonable enough. If her friends refused the Twin Emperors' offer the first time, the 'rich rewards' on offer were lost. That was final. The Twin Emperors wouldn't have to look like they'd had their authority challenged by a 19 year old asthmatic woman. They got to save face. She got to save her friends, plus her own skin. It was perfect. So why did it feel so... dirty? She was doing the best thing she could in her vulnerable position. Chances were good that she was passing up better offers and opportunities for a chance to save them. They ought to be grateful to her for trying to save their lives.

Ah, but they probably wouldn't see it that way. They'd think her actions treasonous. That was fine, though. Wasn't it? To do the right thing, despite how it looked, or who stood to benefit? So why did she feel so guilty for trying? If it didn't work out, whatever happened wasn't her fault. It wasn't.

“You ...” the drunken Black Guard pointed, or at least tried, at the direction of Xiuyang. “Want to help us, and help them.” he paused and fixated on a nearby lily pad. “Ahhhh! I understand! Yes, of course.” a loud belly laugh. “Prove yourself and everything. I get you.” and then another swig was warranted.

Spring stepped back to seek the shade of the fruit tree on the island and took a seat under it. “That is a good offer. And clearly mine did not make you too happy.” he shrugged with a playful smile. “Maybe you have a better idea of what you want?”

"Ah, no, I'm not unhappy with it, per se. I'd like to revisit the Yasoi thing later, when it's a bit more urgent, you know?" she quickly corrected him, finding herself unwilling to let that topic go completely. Perhaps Spring had called a bluff, there—but Xiuyang wouldn't let him dwell on it. It was time for some small talk. "When you get busy like me, it's best to focus on the present. I also just don't want to end up playing politician, y'know? Growing up, my dad was a merchant who knew how to have fun. Now he's just another one of those boring, stuffy nobles. As for me, I'd rather keep doing business. Speaking of—y'know, I've been thinking. Those action figures... they're pretty fuckin' cool, aren't they?" she suddenly said, leaning against the plum tree. "Surely, someone's thought about selling those in the east? I could open some doors there."

“Is that what you want? To sell the toys?” Spring raised a brow, and then raised his gourd. “Then so be! You can sell them outside of ReTan. Especially Mountain Spring ones.” he kept up the jolly behavior, cheeks red and beard filthy from all the booze he had been downing.

"Maybe they wouldn't be popular everywhere, but that's useful data in itself, isn't it? Divisive merchandise like that gets people talking—and when customers talk, people like me listen." She had a devious glint in her eye. "I don't just deal in money, you know? Information is a currency, too. Which reminds me—how did you know I was coming to ReTan?" she asked pointedly, narrowing her eyes.

Suddenly, a question of information, and their own source of intelligence. The Black Guard squinted to match her look. “A Revidian asking how we got information?” he snickered and took a sip of his gourd. It was the last bit left, and he frowned upon turning his container upside down, producing only a few droplets as he did so. “You must already know the answer, or you're not very good at this info-dealing. How would we know? Who would want to give us this information? Why would an outside force appeal to us? Or maybe we're just that good.” he winked. “That is information to be earned, Miss Solari.”

Xiuyang shrugged, her eyes ambiguous. "Fair enough." She hadn't expected Mountain Spring to provide a real answer, assuming he was still of sound enough mind—and that was the point. What she did get was more confirmation that he wasn't drunk enough to be impaired. She'd have to keep her guard up for now, and keep trying to convince him that she was useful enough to be worth the favors she was asking for. "It's not about selling the toys," she chided playfully, helping herself to more of the plums.

"Money is always nice, but more importantly, ReTan needs better PR in the east, don't you think? Really, when you get down to it, humans are the same everywhere. Only difference is the culture. Expose them to a new culture, or change their own—and most people's so-called 'sincerely held opinions' change pretty quickly," she explained cynically. "Selling the toys is just the first step. It's not what I want from you, it's my offer to you. A stronger foothold in the Ensollian Sea, in exchange for... addressing that matter in Tarlon, perhaps?" She cocked her head, raising her hands up inquisitively. "How 'bout that? You thought we were making a deal, but already we have two in the works. A productive little meeting, wouldn't you say?"

“Tarlon?” Spring grimaced. It took him a moment of scratching his shining, dark hair for it to hit him. “Ah haha, yes! I recall, yes yes. Hao hao.” energetic nods came along. He reached for the inside of his opulent but loosened dinner vest to produce a flask of booze. He wasn't done. “I think that is very acceptable and can be shaken upon. Your show of good will - to help your friends see reason - and a trade opportunity in exchange for the accelerated retreat of our protectorate.” the way he summarized the exchange without slurring a single word left one to wonder if he ever truly got drunk.

Still, he needed a moment to get and up and stabilize his footing. “A first step. One we shake on. You will have my word, and I will personally ask that you attend the drafting of the retreat order. It will be known that Xiuyang Solari stood by the Emperors on that fateful day that would save many lives! You will not be excluded.” he offered his hand, the one that had been holding his gourd the whole time, for a shake. It reeked of the stuff, more than even his breath.

Again, Xiuyang gave Mountain Spring that wary but non-hostile look in her eyes, like she couldn't help but be impressed, both by his unassuming cleverness and the way he held his liquor. Maybe it was the sanguinaire genes, or perhaps they shared the same mana type? She found herself wishing she knew more about the man, but asking questions risked revealing her own secrets. Though it didn't show on her face, she was somewhat surprised that she'd gotten to basically negotiate her own terms, despite Spring's judgment not being as impaired as she'd hoped.

She'd... won, right? Just for enduring a little stage fright in front of the Emperors, she'd have the best chance possible to save her friends. Tarlonese Yasoi that, admittedly, may or may not be in actual danger would be saved in exchange for her making the first play in a long culture war that may or may not ever succeed. That was a fair trade, was it not? It was an ideal outcome, yet she couldn't help but feel like it was too good to be true. There had to be fine print, a catch. She'd asked for it, but Spring had dodged the question, so she came up with her own 'show of goodwill.' Did she dare try to bring her doubts to the fore again? It felt like... this was her moment. If she didn't accept now, everything she'd negotiated for might fall apart.

She held out her hand. It felt dirty, and not because of the smell of alcohol. The guilt simply wasn't going away. She found herself hesitating, inexplicably, and infuriatingly. She needed to shake his hand. She could not fuck this up for everyone. They needed her level head to get out of this alive, even if they'd spend the rest of their lives denying it, and calling her a coward. Besides, who were they to judge? What could they even realistically do? These students of Ersand'Enise—these children, compared to the rest of their present company—were minnows, hiding beneath the shadows of Rainbow Island Threshers. Assuming they could even defeat the Twin Emperors, they would leave one whale of a power vacuum, and when that whale opened its mouth, they would all die. They were well past test depth, approaching crush depth—in over their heads, in every way.

"Sorry, it's just—could we walk back?" she offered as an excuse for her reluctance. "Please, don't throw me again."

“Walk, you say?” he looked over her head, to see the big body of water surrounding them. Spring cackled like a pre-teen about to pull an epic prank. “If that is what Lady Xiuyang Solari wishes, then.” he crouched, grunted and propelled himself in the air, leaving a small cloud of dirt behind him. In just a second, he landed on the shore, waving over at Xiuyang.

She cracked an invisible smirk as Mountain Spring flew away. Did he expect her to swim? ...She paused. Without using magic, that was her only way back. ...Well, it was probably fine to use magic now. They were tentative allies at the moment, after all. Worst case scenario, if pressed, she could play dumb about the plushtail oil thing, and let them figure out why the poison didn't work.

She knelt down by the shore, slowly drawing thermal energy from the water until a suitably sized sheet of ice began to form. Once it was large enough to support her weight, she stepped on and used kinetic magic to propel herself towards Mountain Spring. As she slowly floated towards him, she raised her arms up in a shrug, looking rather smug, as if to say: "How do you like that?" She snickered at the thought that, if Mountain Spring was in on the plot to dampen everyone's magic, that she might look cool right about now, revealing that she could've used it all along. Yeah, no. I look like a guppy swimming straight towards a shark. Still, it was an amusing thought, however short-lived.

As she floated towards Mountain Spring, she began thinking of how she might convince her fellow students to stand down. Of course, it was worth mentioning how outmatched they were. Their supposed allies were also unreliable. Siding with the Traveler's revolution spoke for itself. The Nikanese were motivated purely by the predictable self-interest of a rival government. The Dragon was an unknown factor. The Ogauraq may appear friendly, but the lion's share of them almost certainly hated humanity, and many would be privately eager to finish what they started before the Ten got in their way. Even if they won this battle, would they be willing to see the rest of the war and the chaos through to the end? No, of course not. With the exception of Xiuyang—and possibly Maura, if she could convince her to join the rebuilding effort—the rest of the students would celebrate, fuck off back to Ersand'Enise, and continue their jolly school life like nothing had happened. That was the height of self-important arrogance. Who ruled ReTan was for the Rettanese to decide—and if they chose tyranny, it was up to Dami to dish out the consequences of their choices—whether to gloriously profit along it, or tragically suffer beneath it. To rob the Rettanese of that choice was to step into the role of Dami, making themselves to be gods among men. No. ReTan had chosen order.

Indeed, the Ten brought order. The stories her great-grandmother could tell to these kids, if she were alive... It was one thing to see trained warriors slaughtering one another with well-executed sword strikes. It was entirely another to watch your inexperienced neighbor try to stab someone to death with a dull kitchen knife. Yes, both the Jiang and the Ten had faults—but the worst atrocities were committed by the civilians during the chaos. The so-called innocent people who took the opportunity to kill their political opponents, ushering their crying children into the frigid river waters while they laughed, treating the women like spoils of war. Her great-grandmother had been one of the lucky ones. Officially, she was "captured" and "exiled" by the Ten. In reality, they'd rescued her from those monsters. It was only on her deathbed that she'd confessed it—how she was secretly grateful to the Ten.

Did they somehow know it? Of course they did. Of course they had eyes among the Virangish Rettanese. They'd probably been watching Xiuyang since the day she was born. It was how they knew she would someday get involved in this, and it was how they knew she would probably choose their side. Her information network, and theirs, might even be one and the same. Nothing she did was a secret to the Twin Emperors. She hadn't just been outplayed—she'd been a piece on their board the entire time, just waiting for the right moment to be moved.

Spring nearly shattered Xiuyang's concentration as he unleashed a belly laugh at the sight of her ice-surfing through a tranquil pond to reach the shore. Surely the water-walking Sleeping Carp wouldn't mind. “Niiiice!” he shot her a thumbs up once she docked on land. “The others should be done. I think.” he looked to the sky to estimate the time that had passed. He didn't actually know. “Yes. We should go, before someone hurts themselves.” and as they walked through the lavish gardens and the paths bordered by expertly trimmed hedges, the Black Guard offered his flask to her for a bit of sharing. “I heard you hold your alcohol very well. In fact, you hold everything very well. Or is that just a rumor?” Xiuyang shot the man a wink as she grabbed his flask. She then chugged like she hadn't chugged before that day, letting that be her answer. "Just a rumor, of course."

---

As Xiuyang returned to the group, drunkenly laughing and chattering away with Mountain Spring in rapid Rettanese, it was obvious that the mercantile glint in her eye had returned. Compared to some of the others, their return had been late. They'd clearly had much to talk about. Her acceptance of whatever the Ten had offered her seemed self-evident. Idly tossing a half-eaten sacred plum in her hand, she seemed almost smug as she looked around the table at the others, as if she imagined the entire Black Guard to be behind her. However, as it became apparent that pretty much everyone else had done the same, she seemed to sober a little, as if she'd been prepared to give the students some grand speech about why they should give up and join her, and was now slowly realizing that it would no longer be necessary. Her medicine box—and hidden bagh nakhs, which had been easily found—were returned to her in short order, as well, as if they knew Xiuyang's intentions from the start. There was never even a question who she would side with, only what her reasons for doing so might be.

She stopped tossing her half-eaten plum, and looked at Trypano. Her expression bordered on shock. "Really, Trypano? You had one job—negotiate for everyone's lives—and I did it for you. Going against the grain is supposed to be my shtick. What happened? Did we swap brains?" she chided with a playful wink. At this, she seemed to spring into action, negotiating for a cease-fire. Nodding along, Xiuyang offered her own words. "ReTan is not my country, and its leader is not for me to choose. However, its people are mine, and very much concern me. If this revolution continues to gain ground, people are going to suffer. If it succeeds, it will be bedlam—all the horror you can imagine humanity inflicting upon itself will be commonplace, until order is re-established. That's what the Jiang wrought in their death throes, and it's what the Ten fought to put an end to. I've said my piece, and cast my lot," she said, to bolster her own confidence as much as anyone else who may still be having doubts.

Then, the proverbial Dragon of Chaos erupted. Xiuyang shivered—perhaps she was naive to think that the ancient beings might be more level-headed in the face of adversity—as if witnessing a bunch of helpless children decide to not get involved in a war that wasn't theirs could qualify as such. If there had been one person in this group that could have swayed Xiuyang's mind, she'd thought it might be him, but now? He made the bloodsuckers with inelegant table manners look reasonable by comparison. The self-described "mean bastards" were positively chill as the dragon raged at the so-called betrayal.

"Behold: humanity," Trypano quipped sarcastically, gesturing at everyone else dismissively.

"I sympathize, Trypano. I truly do, but the die is cast now," Jocasta replied.

"I don't. Screw you," Xiuyang shot at Trypano, uncharacteristically volatile emotions evident in her eyes.

Sleeping Carp vanished along with the innocents. Lady Matsuhara charged at Yalen, and it appeared to be her last mistake as Jocasta effortlessly took her out. Xiuyang stood close to Jocasta, grateful to be on her side as dozens of portals poured in hordes of the Ogauraq. Then she disappeared, leaving Xiuyang feeling helpless and exposed. Her mind grasped about frantically, desperate like a woman drowning, lost and blind in an underwater cave while dislodged detritus and massive, unseen and unknowable predators swam around her tauntingly. Brother Ash's laughter echoed in her ears.

"YOU ARE ALL FOOD!" boomed a voice that Xiuyang didn't have the wherewithall to even identify.

But it grounded her. It brought her survival instincts to the fore.

She cast every ounce of illusion magic she had at her disposal, intent on escaping the feeding frenzy that was to ensue.

Or she would have, if her attempts weren't all drawn to nothing instantly.

The air hummed and shook. She collapsed. Everyone collapsed.

Xiuyang nearly vomited into her mask, but managed to keep her alcohol down. The pounding in her head was a familiar sensation, after all. Her entire body felt pain—but she was always in pain. Compared to the agony of Facemimicry, this was... manageable. She raised her head as much as she dared, taking in the aftermath, as was her instinct and her duty—it was triage time. Trypano was incapacitated, and much to her own surprise, Xiuyang found her hands still as a crocodile's mouth. As a fellow binder, patching her up first was the obvious choice, to keep the cost of human lives on both sides to a minimum. Yet... Xiuyang found herself a woman possessed—possessed with the grasping need to win, at whatever cost. She wouldn't kill Trypano—not yet—but Xiuyang doubted that a bit of healing would allay the woman's stubbornness. She could just lay there and wallow in her hatred for humanity a while longer, contemplating her poor choice of allies.

Instead, she turned her attention to Yalen, who seemed to have received the worst of it by far.

For once, Maura found herself sitting eye to eye with someone. Yawen was not floating in the air as Jocasta so often did but, rather, wheeling along beside her, long black hair spilling down her back and shoulders, skin porcelain white. She looked every bit the imperial princess that she was. "It's just a bit ahead," she threw over her shoulder. There was a large chicken on her lap: the same distinctly reddish one that Maura had seen yesterday in the courtyard of the inn.

They were all headed for one of the side pavilions, a cool evening breeze rippling their hair as they glided along the smooth flagstones. "I'm glad you're okay, you know." Yawen turned gracefully on the spot, the chicken flapping free and clucking as it alighted softly on the ground. She seemed to be hiding some distress. "I'm... very sorry for how it ended between whispering dragon squad and yourselves." She rolled forward and reached out to take Maura's hands.

Maura gently grasped Yawen's hands, returning the warm gesture with a heartfelt squeeze. She still wore the knot ornament she had purchased the previous day, a matching present to the one she had given to Yawen.

"We’re relieved to see that you're well, too. You had me worried when you fainted yesterday. We're glad you were granted permission to join us," Maura expressed her concern with a nod. "No need to worry about that. It's important to look out for your friends, even if it means appearing a little foolish. Doing what's right often requires ruffling a few feathers," she playfully added, glancing down at the red chicken. Maura couldn't help but let out a giggle. "No offence intended," she reassured the chicken. "We would have done the same for you if the situation called for it," as she gave a warm smile to Yawen.

The tethered girl smiled, reassured and - hopefully - reassuring. She took and released a deep breath, eyes momentarily finding the chicken, who was now meandering along in a sloppy circle, pecking at the ground every so often. "Yes, right," she breathed. "I know and I appreciate it." She squeezed Maura's hands back before releasing them. "Walk with me a bit?" she asked, "Or roll, I suppose, in our case." She rolled her eyes playfully and set hands to wheels, but they may have trembled slightly in the act. "Funny how we have our patterns of speech, isn't it? How we say things or use turns of phrase without even thinking?" She began moving, gliding across the stone slabs. "Anyhow, I'd rather be moving for this next bit. I have bad news, as you might imagine, and good news, I think."

Maura nodded, her smirk revealing a touch of playful sarcasm. "Ah, so the bad news is that you have to kill me, but the good news is that it'll be quick and painless, a sign of our friendship? We appreciate the consideration," she quipped, mixing humour with a hint of truth. Her tone then grew more serious as she continued. "We couldn't help but notice where we were seated, right next to that Nikanese lady who tried to kill us yesterday, who was meant to be dead, happily enjoying her bowl of rice. Guess that man who came wasn't a Black Guard, the one that went by... Prometheus? Progenitor? Something along those lines," she sighed, reflecting on the events.

"I could tell you," she quipped in return, "but then I'd have to kill you." There was a soft, mischievous smile to accompany it. They continued in a silence both good-natured and uneasy for a moment longer, warmed by the sinking sun, before Maura continued, her tone and subject matter both considerably more serious now.

Yawen listened. "He is..." She trailed off, body language becoming tight as they approached the water. She turned in a lazy J-arc and regarded Maura evenly. She sighed. "He is someone even my father fears, and he is not to be spoken of. That is what I have been told." Her voice lowered and Maura could feel her momentum artificially slow as kinetic energy was siphoned away. A sonic bubble lowered over the pair. "Maura, I say this as a friend and as one who would never harm you, no matter what: you're smart, you've got spunk. You're..." She shook her head and smiled. "You know, I'm a little jealous. You've lived so much, while my life has been a linear path. You've done things and taken risks, and they've... well, mostly paid off, from what I gather. This, though -" She shook her head. "This is way beyond either of us. Learn from Yǔmáo rén. Don't fly too close to the sun. It will burn you."

She managed a small, brave, apologetic smile and set hands to wheels, turning to face the pond. She rolled up to the edge and locked her brakes into place, letting out a sigh. She glanced over her shoulder. "They were going to do away with you: with all of you save a select few." Turning back, she bent over and plucked a dandelion that grew between the cracks. "They're not like us," she promised. "They're hard and vicious men. The world has made them that way. A millennium of life has made them that way. I wish I'd known my father as he once was." She twirled the little flower - or weed, in some people's minds - between her fingertips. "I told him and the Ten-Re Emperor about you, though. I spoke at length and I think I got through to them." She found Maura out of the corners of her eyes. "It's tenuous, though. They're wary and sceptical, but willing. They've asked me to deliver you an offer."

Maura nodded pensively, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and resignation. "It's no surprise that they see the girl in the rollerchair as expendable," she remarked with a tinge of bitterness in her voice. She sighed and turned her gaze to the side. "Isn't it funny how people always underestimate us? We were brought to a foreign country to handle a revolution on behalf of the emperors, and within a few days, we've managed to infiltrate the rebellion, meet its leaders through my own skills. The both of us helped repel a Nikanese attack, uncover the embassy secrets, identify Wu Long's conspirators. Last night, my cunning even fished out the elusive Hui before Wu Long made him sleep at the bottom of the sea. The only ones left are sitting in that room over there," she gestured toward the room they had left behind. "And in return for my loyalty and hard work in this task, they've considered sparing my life after your plea on my behalf." She offered Yawen a strained smile, conveying the weight of her emotions. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if they are rolled out the red carpet for the Nobles we travelled with, due to their high RAS, even though they were unproductive in the task. Rewarding incompetence is common in the Twin Continents as well. It is why the Traveller’s message has gained such traction there.”

She reached out and placed her hand on Yawen's arm, expressing gratitude. "Thank you for letting me vent my frustrations. This situation isn't your doing. Please, continue with the gif- offer."

Yawen blinked, either not quite following or sceptical, perhaps in the fashion of her superiors. "So... none of it was genuine, then?" She arched an eyebrow in surprise, but then relented. She smiled. "Truly, you are a good actress, and a loyal friend of the crown as well." She glanced out at the sunset pond for a moment. "They're looking for mutual benefit. They seek to marry Jiang Xiulan to my father and join the dynasties." She sighed in a resigned sort of relief and flashed a small smile. "Your friend will be safe. She'll use magic. She'll have influence as, perhaps, she deserves."

There were few crickets - it was too cold now - but the evening symphony of bullfrogs had begun in earnest. "There are two more things and - you'll have to forgive me - I'm not going to negotiate with you on them. This is a take it or leave it sort of thing. I'm neither authorized to nor much good at it." She offered up a self-deprecating grimace. "The first has to do with you. I sold them on you because, to be honest, I believe in you, and it's what you were saying earlier: I'm tired of people like us never getting our due." She shook her head, a bit of steel in her spine for the moment. "They want to work with you. Your family's company gets tariff-free access to Wanggang. It's a good faith gesture and an experiment, I think. They're likely to give you manifests of preferred goods. There are certain things they'd like that are hard to come by in Retan." She shrugged. "Truth be told, I'm not as well versed in matters of trade as I probably should be."

In the distance, a turtle slid into the water from atop a stone with a small 'splosh'. The odd chicken continued to wander about, pecking occasionally at something that neither girl could quite make out. "The last is Longwan. They want to make it an experiment in free trade and liberalization. I'll be honest: they're not convinced, but if it fails, they figure they don't have much to lose and the damage will be limited. If it succeeds, they'll scale it up." She took a moment to adjust how she was seated and smooth her dress out. "They'll provide a stipend to get you started." She regarded Maura fondly. "You're a useful person with good ideas, and a decent one too. I made sure that they saw that." She snorted into the cooling air. "Most I've ever really gone for something, and it felt good, in a way."

Maura paused, her expression reflecting a mix of confusion and earnestness. "Not genuine…? No, we've been genuine," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly as she tried to comprehend what Yawen was referring to specifically. "It can be confirmation bias, where people see what they want from your actions. Truth is, when we were summoned here, it was to uncover the revolution and establish trade links between ReTan and Ersand'Enise. True, the initial assumption was that the Traveller was behind it all, but we quickly realized it wasn't the case, unless that chicken over there is the Traveller in disguise," she added with a hint of humour, glancing briefly at the peculiar chicken, as if it was about to transform and declare that nobody expects the Traveller revolution.

"We were simply an outsider with an active curiosity, and we managed to complete the task set before us with our own skills," she continued, her tone becoming more serious. "We didn't feel the need to swear loyalty to the Emperor or anyone else. We acted in good faith throughout to complete our mission."

Maura then presented a sash from her outfit, explaining that it had been poisoned with a plant called Plushtail and recommending her not to touch it. "My actions were in good faith," she emphasized, gesturing toward the sash as evidence, disappointed.

"As a merchant, my word is my bond," she continued, a touch of pride evident in her voice. "We don't make deals we don't intend to honour, and we don't accept deals made under duress. That applies to both business and friendship." She reached out and gently placed her hand on Yawen's arm, offering a reassuring squeeze. "You are my friend, and our bond has only grown stronger through our experiences together. That's why we feel comfortable speaking so openly with you, trusting that you understand us."

When Yawen mentioned Xiulan's potential fate as the Empress of ReTan, Maura looked concerned. "What does Xiulan think about this arrangement?" she asked sincerely. "We did offer to bring her back to Longwan, but that was in the heat of the moment. It's true that the palace and becoming Empress of ReTan would provide her with much more than we can offer, but it would give me peace of mind knowing that it's her choice."

She listened attentively to the trade offer and nodded. "That sounds fair, and I don't foresee any difficulties with that arrangement, can review the logistics to see how to make it profitable" she said, her merchant instincts kicking in.

As for the proposal of Longwan being an open market, “Turning the Island into a Special Administrative Region could do wonders,” Maura's eyes lit up with excitement. "If we use that status to convince Ersand'Enise to set up a trade portal there too, the possibilities could be endless," she exclaimed playfully. "It could become not only the Jewel of ReTan, but even East Callanst," she added, her imagination running wild.

Maura then pulled Yawen into a warm hug as a sign of gratitude. "The fact that you went to such lengths for us warms my heart," she said genuinely. After the embrace, she straightened herself and shared a whimsical thought. "It's a shame your father isn't an Avincian Emperor," she said with a playful smile. "The Avincian’s had an interesting way of grooming exceptional individuals, as patrons used to adopt promising candidates. Never know, in another timeline, we'd be appreciated for our talents and both gained a sister," she added with a hint of whimsy.

"But the truth is, we'd never hurt our friends, no matter what we're offered, even if it is the entire riches of ReTan" she said firmly, her voice resolute. "Abdel, Kaureerah, Xiulan, and you. Each means a lot to me, and we won't betray that trust."

Maura then took a moment to reflect on their journey so far. "We're not a revolutionary. We're simply a merchant girl who's very good at what she does and wants to be recognized for her skills and efforts," she said sincerely. "We believe trade can make our world better by allowing access to goods and services that can enrich everyone's lives, even that of Emperors. We want to share that vision with our friends, and for each of us to be happy," she said, a touch of vulnerability in her voice. "Maybe it's a fairy tale, but we're allowed to dream a little from time to time, right?" She tried to lighten the mood to break the tension, "Besides, we don’t think anyone would choose me as the first pick when it comes to selecting sides. A 200ft long dragon that explodes mountains versus a frail girl in a rollerchair? We would kick his ass if it came to accounting ledgers, though."

Her gaze locked with Yawen's, her voice steady. "As my friend, not as a messenger or your father's envoy, what do you think we should do?" she asked sincerely.

Yawen breathed in and out, expression inscrutable. "I..." She paused almost as soon as she had started. "In truth..." She trailed off, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. "The Twin Emperors are tyrants." Her voice lowered in either guilt, caution, or both, and she glanced up and about surreptitiously. "Blood-soaked tyrants." She shook her head. "Thing is, I don't see any good evidence that the others will be any better, so all that they really represent to me is fighting, a centuries-old grudge, and a risk that may not pay off. With my father and uncle, we may have to swallow our morals. We may have to accept some harms, but they're known quantities, and we have a chance to effect change. The stumbling block is magic for all and people's right to exercise it: how much is that worth?" She shrugged. "That, I think, is what this really comes down to." She took a moment to swallow. "Whatever you decide, I will honour it in good faith."

Maura nodded as she listened to Yawen's words, considering the possibility of Xiulan and Yawen taking over the throne to bring about positive change. "You know, we did propose that Xiulan and yourself should replace the Twin Emperors," she said, her tone serious. "Not that we wish them harm, but perhaps they could step back from the spotlight for a while, allowing an opportunity for a new ReTan to arise, uniting the old and new to create something better." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "There's a saying in the Twin Continents: 'Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.' Your father and uncle might have started as good men, doing what was needed for the nation when they took the reins. And for many years, they did their best. But the burdens of power can lead one astray, and you mentioned that they have been ruling for hundreds of years. Perhaps stepping back would allow them to rest while still safeguarding their own and the nation's future, without resorting to the bloodshed that threatens to destroy everything they once held dear. It's a compromise, of course, and obviously only a pipe dream."

Maura recognized the Twin's stepping back as a pipe dream, but she had still mentioned it and, if she had, it was something she might aim for in the future. In truth, Yawen had no true desire to rule - not everyone needed to be possessed of the highest ambitions - and, much as she appreciated Xiulan, she did not think the translator a good candidate. Was it truly just royal blood that qualified one for the position? No. She needed to read between the lines with her friend. She was starting to learn that Maura had a way of mixing good intentions with self-interest. She was, in many regards, a natural ruler. She knew it, too, and the ambition might doom her or those connected to her. But might it not be better? What if she succeeded? "You will have to pry it from their cold dead hands, I fear," she agreed after a pause that had carried for just a moment too long.

"Doubt the Rigor mortis would let it," Maura replied, already having dropped her hook in the water and moved on. She then moved on to talk about the concept of gifts in ReTannese culture. "You may have noticed that we studied ReTannese customs and traditions in Ersand'Enise," she began. "One thing they say is that it is customary to give a gift, and in return, a gift is bestowed upon you." She paused for a moment. "The words you used were 'presenting an offer.' A deal, not a gift. While we would love to accept what they have brought as a generous gift in appreciation for my efforts, we can't help but wonder what they desire in return," she inquired with genuine curiosity.

"They frame it as 'you can help us prevent more bloodshed." She rolled her eyes. "It serves that end, and it serves them." The gesture found itself paired with a shrug. "They know you're not much of a fighter, even if I know better." She smiled softly. "They want you to keep Abdel out of the fighting - to make him reconsider. If possible, they want you to neutralize Jocasta: most likely with words but possibly with poison." She looked uneasy about this last part and her voice was apologetic. "They're scared of her, for what it's worth." She shook her head and snorted. "Scared of someone like us."

Maura smiled weakly, "Jocasta hates me, so that's a non-starter. She didn't like the fact that we didn't believe her when she referred to herself as the 'Mistress of Time and Space' and then flung me out through a portal into the middle of the desert in my best dress. How were we supposed to know about forbidden magic schools where people can pull off miracles like that? So persuasion seems hopeless. I'm not even sure how one can even approach to even attempt to poison her," she said, a tinge of frustration in her voice, though a memory crossed her mind as she recalled it with a proud smile, “Beat her in a Rollerchair race though, and in the Trials. She was after the Governorship of Longwan for herself.” She acknowledged the last statement, "Jocasta is probably the scariest person we know. We admire that fact she is like us, gives me inspiration."

Yawen grimaced as her friend spoke of Jocasta, and then she balled her fists. "Ugh. What a bitch!" she hissed, unballing them after a moment and taking a deep breath. She placed a reassuring hand on Maura's arm. "She sounds genuinely awful." Though is temporal magic truly that obscure? She dismissed the thought. Her friend was right, of course.

Maura is glad Yawen agreed about Jocasta. "We even found a really heartfelt gift for her when shopping once. A local talented artist from her hometown did a beautiful painting of a girl with blonde hair in a rollerchair from behind, looking out at a beautiful scenic landmark. You would think it was Jocasta herself. So, as a nice gesture, we bought it and saved it for an appropriate time as a lovely gift, perhaps even to try to earn some goodwill with her. Want to know what she did? She said, 'It would look great in my drawing room.' The accommodations at Ersand’Enise don’t have drawing rooms, she dumped it. No interest in sincere heart-felt gestures. Naturally, she loved the expensive stuff, she flogged those at the nearest market."

She paused to think for a moment before continuing, "If you want to take Jocasta out of the picture, you'll have to go through Yalen. She's smitten with him, and he is a real Menana thumper. Just say you'll allow Quentic missionaries to practice freely, or even build them a temple or something. You can appeal personally by offering any intel on the Traveller, and apparently there was real bad blood between Hui and him, so handing over any intel on him probably works as well. Perhaps even sweeten a deal with Jocasta herself."

Still, Jocasta was a problem that would need to be dealt with, and Maura proceeded to provide an excellent means of doing so. "Yes," she replied excitedly. "I think Yalen is the key. Whichever way he swings, so will she."

Her expression softened as she spoke about Abdel, "Of course, we don't want him fighting. He's my boyfriend... and he's always been so nice and sweet to me, you know?" Her mind drifted to him for a moment, lost in thought. "He was the first person who never looked away when he saw me, and that... never happens. His gaze lingered, and I could see a light blush on his cheeks. It was as if he was instantly smitten with me," she said with a dreamy sigh. "He's ever so sweet, and he even puts up with my bad side. Even when we disagree, we know he always has my back and is there for me. He is truly great," she added with a fond smile.

Maura thought about another matter for a moment, approaching it delicately, "The others mentioned last night that there are people with a Mana type called Sanguinaire, and those with it experience a long lifespan. They said the Twin Emperors are Sanguinares, and you told me your father has lived for over a thousand years." She moved her hand to hold Yawen's in a comforting manner, "Are you a Sanguinaire too?"

Finally, after gushing about Abdel for some time - and Yawen was not averse to a bit of strictly non-jealous co-gushing - Maura got to her point: what the tethered could sense she would arrow in on as a demand. She took in and expelled a deep breath, momentarily squeezing the proffered hand before releasing it.

She swung her legs off of their footrest and placed her feet on the ground. Her face was a mask of concentration. Unsteadily, she rose, and stood there. "Until yesterday, when they fed me two grey aberrations, I hadn't walked in four years." She swayed slightly where she stood, perhaps still getting re-accustomed to the feeling after only a day. She twisted in Maura's direction and reached down to pull her up as well if she so wished. "That wasn't the only thing that I gained yesterday, or lost, depending on how one looks at it." Yawen nodded. "I am one of them now, as I was always intended to be." She shielded her eyes from the glare with her free hand as she looked out across the lake and the setting sun. "I shall miss the feeling of it on my skin."

Maura accepted the hand as she was supported up on her own feet. Shifting her weight during transfers has always proven to be problematic for her, but she was standing next to Yawen. She continued to hold her hand, leaning against her as they looked toward the sunset. She sighed as she knew what that signified. They already said Sanguinaire’s were powerful night creatures, and if they had been eating aberrations and growing their numbers, they were prepared for this fight, and they have created the perfect trap for them. Her own words went unheard as she forewarned about this, but what is done, is done. Wu Long’s words rang in her ears as she looked toward Yawen, “Do me a favour, and stay away from Wu Long”, she frowned for a moment, “Heavily paraphrased, Sanguinaires are not welcome in ReTan,” hoping the meaning is clear without having to repeat the more unpleasant version.

She squeezed Yawen’s hand, “Could you… direct us to the vanity area?” as she motioned applying make-up, and after simple directions made her way walking slowly, finding the room, then closing it behind her. She went over to the bowl of water as she splashed her face, removing the streaks that the tears were leaving behind. Everything about this was wrong. All she wanted to do was impress some people, get some trade deals, some recognition, and then she was happy. Now they are in the middle of a trap with no way out, with so-called revolutionaries who haven’t cared the least about them, nor even cared to listen to what they had to say. A mixture which they didn’t even have their support. Because of them, not only her life is in danger, but that of Abdel, Kaureerah, and her new friends Xiulan and Yawen. Maybe if she was strong like Jocasta, she would be able to do some good from this situation, but she is not. They simply see her as useless. Might as well be RAS-less when it came to her position. She looked up into the mirror as she looked at her own reflection. “This is your fault, Traveller. You’re a coward who got kicked out of your own game. You play with people's hearts and leave them to die for your amusement, excusing yourself. We’re here, and you’re not. You don’t care about the people who get hurt. We are only a statistic in your game, and my friends pay the price.” She continued to wipe away the tears as the new flood came. As her hand moved to her pocket, she felt the primordial egg she got earlier. Niallus mentioned something about how when angels ascend after completing a great deed, they leave these behind as an offering. She had no idea of the truth of this, but maybe holding it as she prayed for the safety of her friends might mean the prayers get answered.

Maura returned, possibly taking longer than intended, as she made her way to Yawen. Her make-up had been reapplied, and she had freshened up. She moved more confidently in her stride as she held Yawen’s hand again. “We want to present you with an offer…” she gazed straight into Yawen’s eyes as she squeezed the hand. “Give us what was in the offer, give Abdel and Kaureerah what was in theirs, bring Xiulan with us, as all of us leave here together.” With the mention of us, she squeezed Yawen’s hand to clearly indicate her as well. “We will go back to that Tea House we went to yesterday, have some Mooncakes, and wait for this to all blow over.” She nodded affirmatively and with encouragement, “We are not here to make enemies. We just want to spend this night together with my friends, safe.”

Yawen shook her head sadly, bravely. "I would like to. I would like nothing more than that, truly and without deceit," She sniffed and, both unbidden and unexpected, felt the heaviness of tears laying ripe on her eyelashes. She blinked and one trickled down her cheek. In a single, rapid motion, she turned to regard her friend.

"I'm sorry." More tears came now. "I'm sorry I got you involved in any of this." She shook her head. "Nobody deserves to be caught in this mess. Nobody deserves to die. Paragons I hate fighting, even if it's been half my life." She took out a kerchief and dabbed at them, taking a couple of deep breaths to gather herself. Her breathing settled and so did her heaving emotions. She regarded Maura steadily. "But I have neither the authority - not yet -" she amended, "- nor the desire to change the deal or step back from what I must do."

She shook her head once more, and there was something resigned and determined about the gesture now. "You warned me about Wu Long." She nodded and narrowed her eyes. "And you were right." The flashed dangerously. "If we do nothing, there is a chance he wins. He wins and commits genocide." Her voice was bitter and determined. "He kills my father. He kills Whispering Dragon Squad. He kills my uncle and thousand others without hesitation." She clenched and unclenched her fists. They were trembling and she hated the weakness. She was the daughter of an emperor. She was a sanguinaire. She was a White Knight... but had she ever truly wanted any of it?

"Then, he comes for me." she offered by way of conclusion. "He is a madman, Maura." She grabbed her friend's hands with surprising vigor, and her face was fearful and earnest and fiery. "A mad dragon and he needs to be stopped. He lives in some idealized version of the past where everything was perfect and harmonious under his wise stewardship and nurses a three hundred-year-old grudge that he would see this entire peaceful nation and its people burn for." She smiled at the end - sadly and bravely - "I am so very sorry, my friend of a deeply meaningful week. I cannot sit aside. I have some power, what little I do. Much as I wish it were not so, I have to fight."

Maura was there for Yawen, holding her within her arms if needed. It seemed like Yawen had made her decision, and now it was Maura's turn. “It has been a deeply meaningful week, and we loved our day together,” she said warmly.

Part of her wanted to be like Ayla, hugging everyone until the situation resolved itself, standing resolute in the face of the odds and appearing to pull off a miracle. But she knew she wasn't Ayla, and she couldn't rely on comforts like a plush bed full of cushions. She had to work for everything she achieved.

Maura considered taking an ideological view of the situation, imagining herself riding a massive dragon named Wu Long into battle, overthrowing tyrants, and being crowned the saviour of ReTan. However, she knew that scenario was far from the truth. She didn't feel any real ideological kinship with the revolutionary factions, and even the alternative options they presented to her had their flaws and failings. As Yawen said, sometimes it is better the evil you know. They all looked down on her, each one of them, none could see past their noses, blinded by their own desires. Not even the Traveller deigned her worthy enough of an audience.

She looked at Yawen, and smiled. The girl before her is a fruit of her efforts. She had an eye for people, and here she had the daughter of an Emperor in front of her.

She smiled at Yawen, remembering their time together. “It still surprises me how a Princess like you could amuse me for so long,” she said fondly. “It reminded me of the times we spent with my friend, Ayla. They nickname her the Princesa of Varrahasta because she's pretty, petite, a high noble who radiates welcoming warmth.”

She paused for a moment and smiled widely. “We need to do a beach holiday on Longwan, and we will invite her, along with my other friends like Penny and her boyfriend Ashon! Obviously, Abdel and Kaureerah would be there too…” She paused slightly when mentioning their names, her tone shifted due to the current circumstance, she continued with a smile, “We will have to make sure we get an extra-large umbrella, so you can join in.” Despite her tone, she managed to let out a giggle, trying to keep the mood light-hearted.

Maura's expression turned serious as she shifted the conversation. "You mean a lot to me, Yawen, and so do my other friends. We feel deeply and sincerely, even if some don’t understand" she said earnestly.

She decided to open up about her background, going on a slight tangent. “Not sure what you know about me, you probably saw a file, and it says we are Torragonese. It is not entirely accurate; my father is, but my mother was Segonian, giving me mixed heritage. Mercador is a Segonian name for Merchant. If we were born here, I would have been named something like Shāngrén.” She flicked her hair to the side. “You might have noticed, we are not Tethered either, though people tend to automatically assume. I have a condition that doesn’t even have a name; it is referred to simply as a ‘blood disorder.’ It causes me to bruise easily, have stretchy skin, and my joints pop out when things get too rough. Needless to say, I'm seen as anything but special.”

She paused as she gathered her strength and confidence, looking Yawen in her eyes. “But we want more, we are ambitious, we are going to show the world what a girl like me can do. We will defy everyone's expectations, their attempts to belittle me, and make something grand of myself.” and with emphasis, “We are the Governor of Longwan.”

Looking out toward the sunset, she proclaimed her determination, her eyes sparkling brightly. “Longwan is erroneously viewed as a remote province of questionable worth, and like me, greatly undervalued. It is their mistake. Even if the journey for greatness is a thousand miles, it begins with a single step, and we will make each one of them.”

Here she was, vastly outnumbered with enemies on all sides, but she would make it through. There is an expression, "you reap what you sow," but Maura is no farmer; her family descends from fishermen, and for them, you cast the bait and the fish come. It is time to reel in the catch.

“We do not hold love for your father; he treats me with a blade to my throat. However, we do hold love for you. While you act as his envoy, this is a deal between you and me. Unlike him, you believe in me. We will take this journey together.” She takes a hold of Yawen’s hands. “Tell your father that the Governor of Longwan has accepted.”

The prize is not the Emperor, nor the trade deal; it is Yawen herself. Back when they were assigning escorts, she spotted her and those tell-tale signs, and she laid the lure. What people forget is that there is a more powerful weapon than deceit—the truth—a weapon so revolutionary that people often forget it exists. She is not like the Perrench who lie through their teeth, or slippery like a Revidian, or barbaric like an Eskandr, or zealous like a Torragonese… She is a Segonian, the land of the maestros and their marionettes. The most precious thing to a Maestro is their puppets; they are loved, cherished, and so very precious. Her smile beamed as she stroked her hand upon the porcelain features of the girl's face, the pair wearing their friendship knots, the string that binds them together.

“However, there is one condition, and we insist on it.” Her hand squeezed Yawen's own for emphasis. "If it comes to fighting and the need arises, Abdel and Kaureerah are mine to deal with, and their fates belong to me. Nothing will stop me when it comes to saving my precious friends, not your father, or even a deranged dragon." Her eyes twinkled with the last remark, "If your father has a good conscience, he will accept this." She moved to wrap her arms around the other girl, embracing her tightly, a prolonged hug before they separated, moving to sit back down on her chair.

"What happens now?" Maura asked as they sat back down.

Yawen sat back down as well. "In truth, I don't know. We'll have to see if our other friends took their offers. Then, we'll have to defeat the rebels first. Then, finally, Retan can be at peace and my father and uncle can start instituting the reforms they have planned." She let out a long sigh and glanced over at Maura with a smile. "Thank you for believing in me right back. Thank you for..." She let out a sniff of mirth. "For being you, I guess, and for being good. For now, we head back. We play it close to the vest, I think. we wait and hear what the others have to say." She suited words to action, releasing the catches on her wheels and turning on the spot. "Are you coming?"

“Naturally,” she smiled as she followed. “Time to face the music. Where is a violin when you need one…”

---

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---

Metropolis

---

Yalen wiped his mouth with a napkin and picked up the last cookie on his dessert plate. He broke it in half with the intention of dipping it into his tea, and when he did a small metal disc fell out and clattered onto the table. The sudden noise shocked him, but he was quick to retrieve the fallen object and hold it up for observation. There was a message printed upon it, helpfully translated into Avincian so that even the young priest could understand its meaning. Underneath the instructions was a phrase. Or more accurately, a name: Smoking Bandit.

Yalen shifted his gaze to the Black Guard named on the plate. He had been assigned the pipe smoking gunslinger on the far end of the table. Rough-and-tumble types like Desmond were not his ideal company, but men like that tended to get straight to the point, so Yalen did not expect this talk to take long at all. He gave his escort a subtle nod, which was met by a confident sneer from the other side. They both vacated their chairs without missing a beat, quickly departing for the hedge maze as a few others continued to pick halfheartedly at their food.

---

It was unfortunate that Jocasta chose to get directly involved today. Yalen had finally made up his mind about who to side with in this conflict, but he wouldn’t be able to defend his position if it meant raising a hand against his her. This foreign affair was not worth the heartache he would suffer from betraying his wife.

But there is always a small chance I can convince her. Yalen decided he would probe the Black Guard like he originally planned. He wanted to know what kind of person Smoking Bandit was, and if his people were worth the risk of turning on Wu Long. Trypano was definitely right about something. Someone was going to rule this country, and soon it might not be its native people. After thinking about it for a day, Yalen decided it would be best to maintain the status quo in Rettan for the sake of its continued stability. Nikan was making hostile moves in this country, and Brother Ash’s continued existence presented its own unknown danger. Outside forces were circling Rettan like sharks, waiting to feast on the victor of this civil war.

This country is enormous. If Wu Long successfully overthrows the emperors, it would take days to assume control of the chain of command even with the help of the Watchful Eye. His forces will be weakened by the initial struggle, and more manpower will have to be devoted to arresting imperial loyalists across Rettan. It will be difficult to keep the border protected in the middle of such chaos. This is not a safe time to be demanding a revolution. So the Somnian rationalized his feelings about the present situation. Xiulan deserved to be happy, but the price of her freedom was too great.

Smoking Bandit was tall and lean. He walked just behind Yalen in a dull brown cloak. A wide-brimmed sedge hat, old and battered, sat atop his head and his eyes glowed from between its gaps with a fiendish orange light. Smoke curled from the tip of a long, curved pipe that hung from the corner of his mouth. Presently he removed it to speak. "Somnian, huh? So yer all about justice I 'spose." His voice was a low, menacing drawl, his teeth crooked and yellow. Across his chest were strapped six pistols and a dagger and, across his back, was a shovel.

If his appearance and demeanour didn't send a strong enough message, there was the sheer power that he radiated. Only Jocasta, of the people who Yalen could claim to know well, had ever shown more. Smoke continued to curl from his pipe: a miasma filling the air around him, twisting out towards the leafy green walls and the young priest with tenebrous tendrils. After a moment, he continued.

"Listen, lil' padre, I ain't about to pretend I'm yer pal or somethin', 'cause I ain't and I don' like lyin'." He scowled, struck a match, and relit his pipe. He took a couple of long pulls and breathed outward, the smoke once again taking on that unnatural quality. It appeared to fill the entirety of the space between the hedges, hanging low and heavy in the air.

"Truth of it's that the Twins don' think there's any good reason we should be at odds." He gestured momentarily with his pipe, his free hand resting on the butt of the pistol holstered on his belt. "Yer bein used n' lied to an' yuh shouldn't be doin' people like that no favours." He scowled, eyes still more or less only visible as embers in the shadows of the burgeoning evening. "So I been sent here with a counter-offer." He took another quick puff of the pipe and grinned, his crooked teeth gleaming around it. "'Stead o' fightin' against the guys tryin' to keep some law n' order in this place, yuh help us take out the Traveler. She's been stickin' her nose in Retan's business, where it don' belong, n' people are gonna die because of it." He wrinkled his nose. "Yuh get all the help yuh need, too, but uh... Ash first, huh?" He smiled wickedly, knowingly. "He's a gods-damned radical: one o' them Traveler folk n' not even a genuine one. I can kinda respect those, in a way." He shook his head in distaste. "Nah. He's cynical - greedy - n' he's juss usin' the words all hollow-like."

If Yalen was at all surprised that the Black Guard knew of Brother Ash's continued survival, Smoking Bandit seemed unbothered. "Yuh really think Soup and Spring are that stupid?" There was a brief chuckle as he shook his head. "'Yuh coulda finished 'im too and yuh didn't." He scowled. "Why?" It wasn't a question meant to go unanswered.

Yalen had a hard time keeping his head cool as Smoking Bandit threatened him. He was about to provoke this very powerful man in order to test him, and such a move might prove to be the priest’s undoing. Yalen could only be strong now because he had faith in his friends, and in the Pentad. If it was time to die at least he would die with integrity.

"I have no love for that man." Yalen replied. "He has information I want. That is the only reason I desired his continued survival." His fists clenched. "Besides, a Quentic slaying one of their own without due process...? It would be an abomination. Only a Rezaindian like Brother Ash could be so heartless." Flicking away a wisp of smoke, Yalen continued. This was the part where he poked the beehive. Was Smoking Bandit holding anything back? Were there any concessions Yalen might be able to pry out of him? There was a lot you could learn from a person by making them mad… or so he’d been taught by Sister D’aureville. "I wanted to help you from the first day I arrived here, you know. I fought alongside your men. I took prisoners. I did my duty only to be told that I was fighting rebels and foreign mercenaries, not the Traveler's agents. Unless you have something to show me, I can't make myself believe you or the Emperors."

"I'd say yer not as smart as yuh look," the Black Guard replied, "but yuh don't look all that smart anyhow." Smoke curled from his lips. "Was it us who lied to yuh or yer school?" He narrowed those emberlike eyes.

"I've done quite a bit of good for the world by believing in the school." Yalen shrugged. "What else do you want to ask me?"

"Looks like y'ain't gonna budge, huh?" They were approaching a dead end and a wall of deep green loomed before them. "I said I don't lie, boy. It's your bad choice not to believe it. School played us all for dupes. Maybe yer forgettin' there's new management there since yer lil' adventure out in Torragon, and they ain't good people." He shook his head and the smoke began to thicken further. He had nothing to ask. His free hand continued to rest on the butt of his pistol. The energy in the air grew thicker.

"I've wanted to believe you from the start. You chose to come empty handed instead of showing me some proof." Yalen crossed his arms behind his back. "I'm not strong enough to defeat you. If you'd rather shoot me than try and change my mind, that is your choice to make." Oops, that might have been too bold. I really hope he won’t shoot me…! His heart quickened in anticipation.

Smoking Bandit pulled at his pipe. A couple of seconds later, smoke came out of his nostrils. "I git the impression ain't nothin' I could reasonably pull out'd satisfy yuh anyway." The silence was filled with the chirps of crickets. The sun had sunk below the hedges. "What reason I got to lie, boy?" he groaned. "Think for a second, will yuh? Don't they educate yuh priests?" He disappeard in a haze and, when he reappeared, he was between Yalen and the way back. Smoking Bandit began stalking forward, toward the young tethered. "Ain't it in the best interests of Retan to git rid o' Ash? To git rid o' the Traveler in case she comes back? Gives it another go 'n for real this time? How's it hurt us bringin' another useful person aboard, 'specially when our interests align and 'specially when the alternative is to fight 'n kill 'n waste yuh? Hell, yuh can even have that no-good traitor if yuh want. Lock 'im up. 'terrogate 'im. I don't give a rat's ass. We juss don' want 'im round these parts. This ain't half as high stakes for us as it is for you, boy! Comprende?"

That’s a good look on your face. Yalen grinned. "I like you sir. You hold nothing back. No matter how hard I push, I cannot see any lying in you. He came closer to Smoking Bandit, this time with a sincere smile. "Your face tells me that whether you are right or not, you believe what you're saying. I am grateful for your honesty." In moments, Yalen's eyes clouded with guilt. "I know we both have something to gain by helping each other but... when my wife got involved, I was sworn to stay by her side. My oaths to Ipte weigh heavier on the scales than any mortal concern, and if she tries to fight you, then she and I will fight together and talk it out if we still draw breath. I hope you understand my feelings as a man."

Smoking Bandit scowled, otherwise unreadable. His face grew cold and stony and smoke trickled from the corner of his mouth. The sun was close to setting now, though they could not see it beyond the hedges. He nodded tightly, a silhouette in the shimmering miasma. "So be it, padre. Ain't Ipte you'll be needin' soon." Then, the smoke thickened swirled and Yalen was left alone deep inside the labyrinth.

---

Meanwhile, back in the garden during the negotiations...

---

Trypano was brought to follow a man of noticeably shorter stature than her to the verdant gardens of the Imperial Palace. A variety of fruits and vegetables grew, some foreign, others grafted to create new variants of a species. There was an orchard not too far off where similar gardening experiments had been done and brought to existence a variety of different coloured fruits. They were definitely giving the Suspended Gardens of Gandakar a run for their money.

“You are a bright individual, far brighter than most of your peers.” started the man wearing the distinctly purple robe as he reached for a melon that had been ‘bred’ to have little to no seeds. “Far brighter than most people, I should say.” the fruit was split, showing off the literal fruits of knowledge sharing and meticulous work. “But, alas, our limited vessels can only give us so much time to realize our visions for this world. So few potentials end up truly realized.” he offered half of the treat to the pale scholar. “We can offer you that time. Time and power. Our power.” he smiled and tilted his head expectantly. “You would be one of us, Trypano Somia, and no longer will you be constrained by not only your own limits, but those also imposed by those who fail to see the potential of your vision.”

She walked in the garden with one who by now surely knew her own crew and theirs had clashed. This was no doubt an attempt to sway her favor, no less than it would be with many of her other peers. As expected, Laughing Squid offered flattery before stating their offer. With little else spoken before he offered a sample of one of the garden's many fruits she took the melon half from his hand, now holding it in her own.

"A bright individual may believe themself bright. The brightest however knows how little it means to grade so vague a term in a linear capacity." Her blood red index nail on her left hand traced the rim of the melon, it's very edge leaving a fine line on it's surface. Subtly, beneath her unmoving mask she was acting upon the melon magically. Her eyes scanned the chronological passage of the melon itself, leaving faint impressions in the instant as she initiated a bio-chemical state of decay in the skin of the fruit, running right along the line she had left both physically and temporally.

"Intelligence is a quality one may recognize but all struggle to truly define. Is someone who can memorize any information they are presented inherently able to make the most of resources present to them? Is someone who can deduce the solution to any puzzle no matter how complex naturally orient themselves in an unfamiliar location? Is someone who can perceive every force present and calculate the very outcomes of every interaction able to understand what purpose any of their own choices holds?" The rot that had set in followed the line, roots stemming out from the central point of contact, each stage in this necrotic progression pinned along both a mental, physical and even magical map she was carving along the rim in a long ring.

"In the end I am not smarter than them inherently. Rather, the course of events have led me to perceive things they have not. The sum of my experiences has led me to different conclusions than theirs. Time and experience may be able to better inform decisions but every mind differs in innate variables which lead to different conclusions. One could a nearly identical life from birth and still act differently from the other. Only in the full measure of time can one say what choices hold merit over others." What had appeared to be a ring was slowly forming into a spiral, the edge passing just beneath the rot which was slowly subsuming the outer layer.

"I have seen things far different from what most would experience in their lifespans. I've been displaced temporally, seen the end of Sipenta itself, witnessed those who monitor activity along the timestream, spoken to beings with knowledge beyond that of any mortal." The necrotic spiral left behind at the start of the trace line echoed throughout the surface, the path thinning as it meets up with the current where the nail carves along the surface.

"For what it's worth I see no inherent wrongdoing in their philosophy. The more power one holds the more difficult control becomes, the more essential it is to maintain. You build up a status quo, taking every factor present and regulating it until all things strike a harmony. Alas, new issues arise, new problems in need of jurisdiction. The judgement is passed and then later tweaked again and then again until the issue is satisfied. All the while as life grows, as people grow, the system expands and things which were not previously problems turn imbalanced once again." With each passage of the nail the rot starts to layer onto itself, the darkening edges warping with decay the longer it spreads.

"Being as short lived as I am thus far I can only imagine likening such a task to a carnival trick I once saw over in Mycormii. The performer would spin a plate upon a slender rod, keeping it balanced with focus until it strikes a balance. Then the performer would balance a new plate upon another rod whilst maintaining the previous plate. Two spinning plate, each requiring attention to keep them spinning without losing balance. This act would continue until the inevitable conclusion wherein a plate would inevitably destabilize and fall. The more talented the performer, the more plates they could keep spinning. Without the use of magic I've only ever seen someone keep up to twelve plates spinning at once. With magic, I've seen up to one hundred and forty four simultaneously maintained by a single practitioner." At this rate the rotten juices were starting to leak down her arm, dribbling from the weak points in the decayed shell as with each pass of the spiral the rot travels deeper and deeper towards the ripe, pink core.

"I do not judge them for acting as they've deemed necessary. In the end it is not my place to tell the people of Rettan who is more deserving to lead them. All I can ascertain is that with each passing event all life draws ever closer to certain destruction. A landscape sheathed in lava, oceans turned to acid and devoid of even a sky." As the spiral turns ever tighter it reaches it's final bend, stopping on a singular point in the center of the melon. Placing a waypoint to cap off the temporal pins she's left in the timeline of the melon's decay she studies it across it's many iterations, using the rot as a physical signifier of it's temporal location.

"Perhaps in a different iteration I may take you up on this offer. In this instance however there are matters that require looking into." For but a brief moment she tore her gaze from her little test to look at Laughing Squid directly.

"Tell me, where do you think these issues began? Had the traveler really brought so much dissent as to provoke action from Wu Long, the church and even the Nikanese? Was it Wu Long who set so many things into motion with his machinations? Did either the church or the Nikanese slowly pluck at the strings until all this control came unwound, prompting this bout of chaos? Or perhaps it was something more integral, more intimate with the emperors themselves that changed? Why do you think all this occurred after knowing stability for so long? After all, even you must have begun to notice things after serving for so long." She asked him, probing the man even as she stared through into the very plane of existence of this decayed, rotten fruit she now held.

“You take an awfully long time to say ‘no’,” the one known as Laughing Squid had not moved his lips. In fact, he hadn’t really moved at all and stared at Trypano completely expressionless. The voice came from something closer than her. In her hand was the same fruit she had rotted away, except it was back, cut in half and perfectly restored. Except it had a mouth, one with thick pink lips and pearly white teeth, that spoke with the Squid’s voice. “for a being with so little time.” the melon then grew a pair of brown eyes and narrowed toward the pale scholar.

“HeeeeeHeeeeHeeeeee.” the half-fruit vibrated as it snickered. “Consider your position, and mine, young larvae.” the fruit licked its lips, causing melon-scented mucus to ooze out of it and spill, potentially onto Trypano’s wrist. “You should be listening to me. Not the other way around. And I recommend you heed my offer very carefully.” the motionless Black Guard infrequently looked over to the other fruits. They remained unchanged, for now. “Eternal life. Power that surpasses what you could ever achieve in your lifetime. Unobstructed research. All for just a teeny, tiny bit of cooperation.” the slush-like contents of the fruit briefly turned into an arm and hand, with index and thumb forming a C shape to illustrate just how small her role was. “But not only that. Stormcloud’s grounds would be made available, and permission to the Philosophers’ Archives of ReTan granted to you.” the fruit began to rot away as it had been just moments prior, until it was nothing, but it spoke a final line before it vanished. “A temporal scholar’s dream. Or Hell, any daring mage’s, I say! HeeeeeHeeeeee!” the fruit was truly no more.

“What will it be, then?” asked Laughing Squid with a placid smile.

Trypano looked on, her expression no different than it was to start. It was remarkable she didn't look more unamused with his deduction.

"My, you are terrible at negotiations, aren't you?" She answered flatly. "Here I was thinking I could at least get some work done." She cast her gaze back to the fruit he previously altered.

She cast the remains of the fruit aside, clearly tampered with and thus irrelevant to her experiment. "Another question for you then: What sort of fool would trust the word of one who's loyalties are traded as readily as the trinkets of a merchant?" No longer interested in this dullard who struggled to follow her logic she turned and started back towards the main dining room where (presumably) her colleagues remained.

"Act unto me or scurry back to your master's feet. You will do continue to do your duty just as I shall continue to do mine. Surely you can grasp at least that much." She dismissively waved him off, fully expecting him to try something as no doubt this was most probably a trap. The whole dinner was a trap, this much she expected. This bit was just... Annoying mostly.

Here she went thinking she might actually get to have a decent conversation for once. Even immortality can only build on what's already there apparently.

---

Involved -

Event: Metropolis But It's Dinner

---

Evil Eye was wearing a hint of a smirk as she headed out with Ingrid. The sun was not quite setting and it glowed golden through the canopy of the artificial forest. "Nothing quite like a formal dinner, huh?" She shook her head a bit as they made their way deeper. Finally, the pair came to a small clearing with a single picnic bench.

On edge wouldn't begin to describe Ingrid's nerves. They were all separated from the start, one-on-one with the blackguard. Her mind wandered as she could only guess where Niallus and Trypano were going as they left her sensing range. But she was here with Evil Eye and being rude would get them only closer to death. "I prefer more casual lunches actually, much less stress."

Ingrid slid into her seat, doing her best not to ruin the beautiful clothes she was given. It was still a gift after all, even if it was laced with poison, Ingrid acknowledged.

"Listen," the Black Guard admitted as they took seats across from each other. "I'm not going to pretend to be your friend or anything or act like have your personal best interests at deeply heart here. I've lived..." She trailed off and furrowed her brow. "six-hundred thirty-eight years and it still messes with me sometimes, but I don't regret a shred of it, to be honest." She sighed, and it lingered in the increasingly golden air. At least mosquitoes were scarce at this time of year.

"638 years… Hopefully it was well lived," Ingrid commented, unperturbed by the long life. Though not regretting it gave her some pause. Death was part of life, growing old and watching the young become old was all part of it. Could someone be happy if there was no end? Ingrid questioned before coming back to the conversation.

"You and me, now? We might look only a few years separate in age, but we're worlds apart." She shrugged. "The life experiences I've had? Crazy." She pointed to her eyepatch. "What's behind here? Ain't it something, I'll tell you." She smiled mischievously at Ingrid and drummed her fingers idly on the tabletop. "Thing is, and the reason I volunteered to talk to you, is 'cause we weren't all that different when I started out. Paragons know we weren't, or your Quentic gods, if you prefer." She smiled apologetically. "Sorry."

"No offense taken, I'm sure that both exist," Ingrid rested her arms on the table and said it as if it was the most obvious truth. It was evident Evil Eye was trying to win Ingrid over, at least to Ingrid it was.

In the distance, others had their own discussions, but this was a small bubble within the greater reality for just the two of them. "The Twins aren't perfect." Evil Eye scratched sheepishly at the back of her head. "Truth be told, I used to kinda have a bone to pick with them, but I've come to respect them." Her eye met Ingrid's for a second as she traced something along the table's aged wooden surface with a fingernail. "It's 'cause they understand how the world works." She nodded as she spoke. "People might cheer for the lofty statements and those soaring ideals but, at the end of the day, they're not what really moves things forward. The work of being in charge is difficult and dirty. It almost always involves decisions that'll cause some harm to someone, somewhere for a desired good. I know a lot of people from the Twin Continents balk at our magic policy. It... took a while to reconcile myself to it too but, overall, to be honest?" She made sure that their eyes met. "It works." She tapped the table with her pointer for emphasis. "It really works."

Ingrid listened genuinely to Evil Eye, whether she was earnest or not, she was trying to present herself that way, so Ingrid obliged and openly listen. Ingrid couldn't help but speculate that she may have lost her eye to that 'bone' she had with them or how she ended up serving them. "And I'm sure that it has, Evil Eye," Ingrid felt a slight bit of embarrassment from saying such a silly name but continued with a rebuttal, "I just think that there are better ways what is being done. Even if you can't let then use magic, why not at least train them. At least the ones that would be disposed of otherwise," Ingrid's mind went back to Yong at the dinner having no idea that he could be disposed of with one wrong move on our part.

A moth fluttered between them and both watched it for a split second. "Thing is, everyone wants to be the star of the show, the hero of the story. They can't accept their own flaws and failings. Me?" She pressed her fingertips to her chest. "Well, I'm a huge bitch, to be perfectly frank. This is the nice version you're getting. Trust me." She rolled her eye. "What it all means, though, is that they can't accept that they shouldn't be making the decisions. They can't accept that maybe others - stronger, smarter, better in judgement, or just better positioned - should be making them. So they use whatever tools they have, selfishly, to undermine, to seek advantage for themselves."

Ingrid smirked, "I think I been called a bitch more than once at this point, more 'Extra' than anything else," Ingrid found herself relating to Evil Eye. Evil Eye struck a sore spot. This mission Ingrid tried to play nice. She let boundaries be crossed for the sake of cooperation. Not once did she conspire yet there was always Maura. When was Ingrid not worried about her twisting things to her advantage? I wanted so desperately to work together. I put up with insults not only of me but of my nation. Of my lover that Maura was apparently friends with. All Maura did was use. Fuck that bitch. Ingrid took check of herself though there was no doubt that Evil Eye noticed. That's her specialty after all.

She made sure that her conversational partner was paying attention for the next bit. "So this is where it's all leading: we want you to join us. The sanguine council does. We're impressed by you. I'm impressed by you. Not everything, mind you, but overall, you're exactly the kind of person we look for and we've been scouting you for a couple of years now." She smiled. "Sorry for the intrusion, but what say you?"

All the other thoughts left as she heard the offer. It was a lot. She had studied the sanguine council in the forked tower and had seen the presumed upper members in the Zacqoria ruins. "What do I say…" Ingrid was obviously thinking. Years huh? Must have had a lot of nothing to report with me being stuck in my room for the most part. Why not then? I was a shut in and malleable. Maybe I'm still malleable. No, Manipulatable.

"I don't think I can be a sanguinaire. I have my best friend and lover to worry about here and some other concerns." Ingrid said not in a flat no but more trying to keep the dialogue open.

Evil Eye rose. "'Other concerns?' Sounds like a 'no'." She straightened her slightly rumpled clothes. "I can say I tried." She shrugged and stepped over the bench. "We're going to make Retan a better place, with or without you, Ingrid Penderson. No vengeful dragon or religious zealot or shapeshifting anarchist has the right to interfere with our country and tell us how to live, and we're strong enough to resist them." Her voice had turned just a shade bitter. Perhaps it was the sort of polite, noncommittal rejection that she'd been told to expect.

"And we're building a new army too," she added. "All those unwanted or uncared for kids you're talking about? We're raising them, teaching them magic, giving them purpose. You can fight against us, but you'll have to answer to the future you've stolen from them." This seemed... oddly personal an issue for the Black Guard. She shook her head, backing away, about to turn and be gone. "You can sell your potential short and settle for mediocrity and being stepped on by those with sly words and entangling money, but at least don't stand in our way. Us ten - us Guard and the exemplars - we're shifting the ball. We're in the Twins' ears. We're changing this place." With that, she was done, and turned fully to leave, holding back with only the slightest hitch in her step. "You can still be part of it. The last bit was - if I recall correctly - your idea anyhow. It could use you as its driving force, or you can fight against the future you want."

Ingrid believed herself to be reasonable, but she apparently was not, with Evil Eye walking away from the table. Ingrid showed no emotion other than maybe a slight guard with Evil Eye getting up.

It was then Evil Eye began to grandstand to Ingrid, and it was lame. Ingrid listened and only raised an eyebrow. "So you take what I said as a 'no' and then grandstand on my concern. Only to then offer it?"

Ingrid looked at Evil Eye in disbelief for only a second before shaking her head, "I hope who ever wins can help Retan."

Cause Paragons and the Pentad know 638 years wasn't enough education for you at least. Ingrid had nothing else to say to Evil Eye though she was left thinking that things could've been different.

"You never really cared, or you'd have made an effort, you stupid girl. 'Some other concerns'." Evil Eye laughed bitterly, pivoting on the spot and making air quotes out of it. "You might as well have said 'Oh, I can't because I have friends and, uh... you know, etcetera'!" She waved her hand in mocking dismissal and stalked forward, pounding on the table. "The Twins are literally building the world you claimed to want and offering you a part to play in it. You think they weren't listening in on almost everything all of you foreigners said? You don't think that's why they had me - someone who suffered through what that kid's suffering -" She pointed vaguely in the direction they'd come from. "- come here and make the offer you so flippantly refused before I even had the chance to spell it out!?"

She flipped her eyepatch up and there was one of those hideous powergazer eyes beneath it. As she did, the air around Ingrid turned truly freezing. Plants wilted and browned. Frost coated the ground and any lick of wind stilled. "You're only all pissy because I didn't stroke your ego and assure you that you were the star of the show and would be in charge or some shit. Yeah, those words earlier were intentional. And yeah, governments totally put random foreign teenagers with no experience in the field in charge of statewide programs. No wonder my briefing for you included an 'ego' warning."

She was backing away, but she did not disappear down the bend in the path as she had perhaps originally intended. Something here had struck a nerve, and deeply. Evil Eye's energy swelled now, to enormous proportions. "It's all a fucking front with you people. It's all a show. You don't actually wanna help people like us. You just wanna grandstand as the 'hero' or the 'goodguy' and feel good about your shitty selves. Now I'm glad I tested you and figured that out." Her face went from heated and flushed with anger to cold. The bottom half of it split in a cruel grin. "My name was given to me by someone else, you know, and I don't usually enjoy my work, but this time - I think - I really, really will." Her 'evil eye' began to glow.

Ingrid had turned to Evil Eye since it seemed she had more to say. "Refused?" Ingrid looked at her dumbfounded, "I didn't refuse anything, I wanted to talk about the little things." Then when she started to spell it out, "You just went on and on about knowing you aren't the star, I know that!" Ingrid stood up. "I knew that for awhile now. My concern was the treatment of people like Yong if you couldn't put 2 and 2 together."

As Evil Eye lifted her eyepatch, Ingrid never broke eye contact. Even as Evil Eye drew to stupendous levels and Ingrid could feel that same sickening that happens with Benny and Jocasta, Ingrid didn't draw. "I'm not scared of some powergazer eye, it's not even the worst eyes I've seen all year." Ingrid let her talk more. "I want to help. My concern was the treatment of people like Yong and the only 2 people I love here. If that's too much to talk about because you care about this as well than I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I struck something so dear to you." Even as Ingrid was being threatened she didn't back down, she didn't hesitate to stand for what she said.

At the very precipice, Evil Eye relented. "Paragons, you sure have a way of showing it." The glow faded from the eye that had lent her her moniker and she breathed. "This is..." She trailed off for a moment and flipped the patch back down. "Kinda very personal for me, so I'm sorry too, okay?" She rolled her eye. "There. I said it."

She sauntered back over to the table and plunked herself unceremoniously down on the bench. "You're worried about the others? Then talk to them. They're all intelligent, reasonable people, right?" The air still hummed with energy. "They've all received offers." She shrugged, a bit of the impish charm from earlier returning. "They refuse, then maybe they're not so bright after all, and you need to crack 'em upside the head." She shook hers. "We don't wanna hurt them. I won't give you some ironclad promise because, as you've learned, nothing in life is set in stone, but we'll go nonlethal unless our hand is forced." She smiled, and her eye darted about surreptitiously. "It's going to be alright. You'll see. There's... a plan." She added cryptically, a Cheshire grin blossoming on her face.

All at once, then, there was a great expulsion of energy, and Ingrid tensed, ready to defend against some sudden sneak attack, but it was nothing of the sort. "I've just shut out everybody who could be listening, and there are at least a few." Evil Eye spoke quickly. "Ingrid, this is a plan centuries in the making - it's the luxury we have as sanguinaires." She was leaning forward conspiratorially "I'm sworn to secrecy on this, but the silence is killing me. The Twins are not the badguys, even though they play that part onstage. Everything's about to change if we can pull this off. That's why the Progenitor's turned on them: they're breakign ranks. They're on a different side. He's here, now, for what it's worth: that mysterious handsome guy." She shook her head. "He and the school are counting on you as dupes to overthrow them. The others, like Wu Long and Ash are just opportunists with their own selfish goals. Those reforms that you want?" She grinned and... winked? It was hard to tell with her. "Ready to go in full, and they're just the tip of the iceberg. We're gonna make this world a better place! We want you in on it and, yeah, there's a bit to gain personally as well." She smirked. "Nothin' wrong with that, is there?"

Ingrid sighed in relief that she wasn't going to get destroyed by an omega blast, "I tend to piss people off with how I talk. Old habits die hard." Ingrid took a seat back at the table, before giving a small smile and a nod at the apology, resisting the urge to say sorry again.

Ingrid rolled her eyes, "I'm worried for some of them. Not all," Ingrid tried to make abundantly clear. "Though I will try. They are my schoolmates and even if I hate one of them to bring back bloodeagling. I hate for a mission to have casualties." Ingrid appreciated her trying to say that they don't want to hurt them but Ingrid was unsure about some of the Black Guard but either way, "Thank you Evil Eye-" Ingrid paused, "Do you have another name you prefer or are you fond of that name? I personally dislike names based off of my physical traits."

Ingrid leaned in to listen to the plan. She had speculated it might be a tear in the Black Guard but a tear between some of the Elders and Progenitor. Now that makes sense. Ingrid nodded along to the pretty boy being the Progenitor even though it terrified her. Ooh I hope that he doesn't know that I let his Ex out of the sleeping chamber. She sat back and contemplated. Before she was even done she looked at Evil Eye, "Well, thank you for the trust. I won't be sharing that." She went back to weighing it and she came to a conclusion. "If you would have me, I'll help. What do you need from me?"

'Evil Eye' smiled ruefully. "People used to call me Linlin." She blushed. "Always thought it sounded too cute. I ain't that cute, am I?" She laughed nervously. She shook her head and leaned back, crossing her arms.

Then, it came time for the main offer. "We need your strength. One way or another, there's going to be a fight. Everything that we have planned depends on us winning it. I know it's not fair to ask you when I hardly know you and we've spent half that time at each other's throats, but... you and the others: we need you to help us fight against the threats that surround us: the Nikanese, Brother Ash (who's still very much alive), Wu Long, and..." She swallowed. "Maybe even your fellow students if it really comes down to it. I expect none of you will try to kill each other, and you can help make sure of it." She reached out and took Ingrid by the hands across the table. "Thank you," she said. "You have no idea how much your trust means to me."

Ingrid gave a smirk when Linlin said she wasn't cute, screaming the 'Oh really to her'. But her expression soured as she brought up having to fight her fellow students. "I can't say that they won't try to kill each other. Maura is a central figure to 2 of them and I can say for certain that she hates me." Ingrid let that sit there not for Linlin but for herself. She was coming to terms that she might need to kill her fellow students. "I can only hope that she was self serving here. That all of them came around," Ingrid gave a not too optimistic smile.

Ingrid weighed the information Linlin had entrusted to her and knew that there was a chance the people that held the plushtail oil might have stayed with Wu Long. She leaned in to whisper to Linlin, "Linlin listen, since you trusted me, I'm going to trust you. We found the Plushtail oil that you guys put on our cloths. Thing is that Yalen and the others could get it off of them. They have the Plushtail oil." Ingrid didn't feel completely right sharing that but if it could secure the people she loved, fuck the other ones.

---

---

Sleeping Carp was wordless as he led Abdel toward the water. The others had split off in their different directions and one of the Twins had walked up close to Jocasta and taken the seat beside her. Then, as they neared the pond's edge and Abdel might've thought that they would stop, the Black Guard just kept on moving. His feet left ripples in the water, but these spread outwards with unnatural slowness. He twisted at that same speed and looked back at the youth with expressionless expectation.

Of all the Black Guard, Abdel had to end up with the stoic and infamous Sleeping Carp. There were rumors of his near-divine strength, with many jokes also coming at his expense with how slow he was said to be. All the teen truly knew for syre was that this was a Sanguinaire and was more than capable of killing him on the spot. He was visibly nervous, as evidence with his right hand clenching his left wrist. The quietude was the worst. Like waiting for the inevitable slap from an angry parent. Abdel froze when Carp finally acknowledged him, audibly gulping and constantly hesitating between making eye contact or looking down out of humility. “Uh, hehe,” he did not know why he tittered there, it just came out. “greetings. Errr, I'm Abdel Varga of Torragon?”

The large, stocky man smiled softly and the water rippled around the boy's feet. It became an image: Torragon on a map, and a place in the desert. The water raced. A path led back to Virang and disappeared in the haze. Sleeping Carp shot him an expectant look the same as he had a minute ago.

Abdel blinked and recognized the desert. Well, it could be any desert, but something about it just felt like Torragon. He smiled back at the man and nodded. “Yeah. Lots of sand. Have you ever been?” already he felt a bit more at ease with his hands moving to his sides.

Sleeping Carp nodded, and they continued walking, past an island where a drunk and a masked woman postured. Next, he stopped beside a large rock that rose just high enough to be visible in the bluish-green murk and the water formed something: a question mark.

Abdel nodded again and pursed his lips, unsure of where to lead this subject. He followed and stepped closer to the water to acknowledge the shape. “Questions? Uhm.” he mused for a moment. “What do you want from me? Help you? Just step aside? Say something to my friends?” he was beginning to overthink, especially as the only actual voice in this conversation. “If you want me to tell you the truth, I don't really know how to feel about any of this. I'm just-” he continued to walk, head sunken a little. “some kid with big lizards that finds people. This is ... So much.”

The big man reached out then, and it was... was it slow or was it fast? His hand was simply there. It was on Abdel's shoulder and it squeezed gently. There were pictures of lizards in the water and they grew and grew. He shook his head. There were images of Abdel and his skuggvars fighting various members of the Black Guard. In each case, they died in horrible and sometimes darkly comical ways. Sleeping Carp grimaced, albeit very slightly. An emphatic cross was put through the images of fighting. The Black Guard continued walking and Abdel knew what to do by now.

Abdel flinched when he felt the hand before he could even see it. His eyes widened and his forehead accumulated droplets of sweat. “Facing you is certain death.” he interpreted, tittering at the more absurd variations. His pace matched the bald man's. “But letting this rule continue isn't right either. I-” he thought about it. It wasn't right but said who? The being that never showed its true form? The Sanguinaire keen on bloody conquest? Wu Long ... “Wu Long.” he mumbled to himself. “The only one to claim rulership should the empire fall is Wu Long. A man I hardly know.” he rubbed his shoulder, head sunken again. He scoffed. “I don't know what future can be brought to his land by such a man. But I resent what's been done with it. All your people, rendered dumb and helpless, relying solely on you, the rulers, to be protected. I lived in a place like that.” deep breaths, if he was to meet a comically bad end, it wouldn't be as a pussy. “It was awful. And I'm sure more than a few feel that way.”

Wu Long. Sleeping Carp went still at the name. After a moment, he shook his head. "He is an ancient evil, reawakened," rumbled the Black Guard. His face was stoic, his brow furrowed. He had not spoken in nearly a dozen years. "I will show you all, if you let me." Abdel was motioned forward.

Abdel flinched even harder when he heard the man's voice. The carp spoke? The rumors of his adamant silence were exaggerated. Or this was the real deal. “An ancient evil? The dragon?” it was a strange thing to hear, a Sanguinaire calling something ancient and evil in the same phrase. But it made sense. “But he works for something. Many somethings.” he wagged his finger at the direction of Carp and then brought it to his chin. “According to Ash, anyway. But why would he lie when he was about to die?” he looked at Carp inquisitively, as if they were both cracking a case together. The shared look awakened Abdel from his moment. “Ah, uhm. Yes. I'd like that.” he awkwardly stepped forward, ready to be shared some wisdom.

A heavy hand came down upon his head: not deliberately rough, but heavy nonetheless. "You will see," the sanguinaire rumbled, and 'see' Abdel did. He saw moments in a life stretching back thousands of years. He saw neolithic, copper, and bronze age Retan under the dragons: how they had bred and crafted the mana slimes to redistribute energy to where they saw fit. Certainly, they had allowed magic and it had flourished under them. Certainly, it - and other sapients - had existed to serve their ends.

That was not all, however. Abdel saw the many peoples that had passed through this land: the hegelans, who had been driven away; the ogauraq and humans, who had been made into servants; the yasoi who were incorrigible and suffered for it. Once upon a time, Sleeping Carp himself had fought the dragons when men had risen up against them. He had ruled, briefly, as an emperor named Cheng.

Then, had come his fellow sanguinaires, including one whom he called 'brother'. That brother had struck him down and he had nearly died. The face of that man was unmistakable. It was the Progenitor. He was here. There were years in quiet exile, as a monk, a village leader, a fisherman. There were wives and sons and daughters, but he had watched them all die before him. If the dragons no longer ruled openly, they came to rule again, from the shadows. Retan was a land of harmony instead of choice, that way of thinking woven indelibly into its cultural fabric. Still, the energies of magic flowed inward to the dragons and outward to the people like controlling tendrils, and the great beasts remained indolent and arrogant instead of wise.

This, then, was one of the reasons why magic had been so strictly regulated: the dragons could drain it. They could use it. The more that there was, the stronger they became. The stronger they became, the more tyrannical. Yet, there was more. Some seven hundred years ago, his brother had returned to him. He was now unquestionably the greater between them, and any ill-will had faded. It was the prerogative of humans to stand on their own, he had insisted, to establish and maintain their own order. Those above him had decreed it so, for the dragons were poor servants of order. In the background, hovering in the shadows behind the world of Sipenta, behind the many thrones and crowns of men and gods, was the shape of a great being with many arms.

Sleeping Carp had not wanted to serve, but his brother had reconciled with him and bid him to do so. It was the only way that men might stand tall, and sanguinaires were their most potent weapons against the forces of such monsters as existed beyond the light of their science and knowledge. Besides, if there was one thing that he and the Progenitor had both craved, it was an end to the rule of dragons, brazen or secretive.

So, he had groomed and watched over two of the Sanguine Council's chosen: another pair of brothers, and had determined that it would be different for them. He had come to know them and their hearts. He had come to share a dream with them, to make difficult decisions. The power of the Knowers - that was a word that was impressed upon Abdel, then - was overwhelming, and the Progenitor, as their servant. So, he and the twins, as they had grown in their determination that things might change, had begun to make compromises.

They had played the roles allotted to them. They had taken on others, over time, until they had seized the throne. One bad emperor, one slip from the dragons, and they had done it. Yet, the work of governing was onerous. The requirements of the Sanguine Council kept them bound. Sleeping Carp had stepped away from such machinations, for he was weak, despite his strength, and they disgusted him. Now, the Twins had pushed against good faith and driven to anger those who stood against them, so that they might finally act and be revealed. That was the crossroads at which they now stood. The man lifted his hand away.

Abdel lived through countless lifetimes in the span of a few moments. It was far too much for his developing, human brain. At least he could understand Ismette to an extent now, not that he knew her all that much. When Carp let go, Abdel fell onto his backside, numb and changed. He had seen what no human was supposed to see, and it hurt so much on a mental level. Most alarming was the unfathomable form of the cosmic monstrosity that stood above it all. He kept picturing that image over and over, and each time cause him to recoil and clench his skull with one hand. “Why did you show me this?” he inquired, although it was more accusatory than curious.

“Why would you ever show me all of this?!” he fell to his back over the perfectly cut grass, facing the sky and both hands now pressed to his skull. The Twins were not the evildoers, Wu Long was a slave to a horrible thing and this terrifying Black Guard had the power to match Gods. But that wasn't what tormented Abdel so much. Now the choice was impossible. It didn't even matter who he believed, every path was leading to something terrible for someone, especially himself and his friends. They oppose the Emperors, they die, they oppose Wu Long, they are noped by that disgusting monster, they oppose Nikan and they face the wrath of all the bloodsuckers. And all of this because he took a slightly bigger job than his usual hunts. His meek desire for a promotion in his side gig and getting Maura her cute trade deals led him into this rabbit hole of pure Hell. He began to giggle, almost meniacally so as he looked to Carp. And then he screamed. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” arms flailing and bashing the ground behind him while still on his back. His hands gripped his hair and tugged without actually ripping anything off. The screaming lasted a good ten seconds until his throat gave in. He just needed to let it all out. He needed to scream since the Nikanese attack, but now there was no need to bottle things up. He was FUCKED in any case. Eventually, he did calm, his chest heaving from his outburst.

“Cheng.” he called out with the raspiest of voices. “I don't want to die.” he uttered meekly, eyes to the sky again. “I don't want any of them to die either. My classmates. Even if they take the most vapid of deals. I don't want them to die. They didn't ask for any of this.” he hardly blinked, causing his eyes to get teary, but he wasn't crying. No, he had no idea how to feel after this massive existential terror he experienced. “What's stopping those dragons, and that thing, from just killing us all if we oppose? Or that ... Brother of yours. Or anything.” both his tanned hands covered his face. “I want to just leave. I don't want anything. No riches or greater powers. I ... want to go home. But I can't.” his hands slid down a tad to reveal only his eyes. “I can't just leave them. I wasn't left behind by people who risked a lot for me and my family.” his eyes peered to Carp again. “What do I do? What CAN I do?”

Sleeping Carp just watched the boy. If he felt remorse, he did not openly show it. Then, he sunk into a crouch. "What's stopping them is our power," he replied simply. "Ours, and the sirrahi's. You've heard of them?" He shook his head. "Don't worry, Abdel. You're still a boy and there's no shame in that, but you're strong, you're only going to get stronger, and I promise you that you're not alone. Nearly every one of your friends has accepted our offers. I will also fight beside you." The monk smiled and say cross-legged on the water beside the boy. "To not fight when you have the power is to lose regardless."

It was then that something strange happened. Sleeping Carp touched the water's surface and, as far as Abdel could see and sense, he saw not only space and the things in it, but time as well. He could sense it. He could feel it as if it were a tangible thing. Every person, every thing was multiple images: past, present, and possible futures. They branched. "Besides," the Black Guard concluded. "We have monsters of our own. In time, this is a power that you might hold as well." That was when Abdel turned his attention to himself. For a split second, he could see some of his futures, and it was true, what Sleeping Carp had said, or at least, it could be.

Words and reassurances, all did little to pacify Abdel. It could all be an elaborate lie, they were all obscenely powerful after all. He looked up to Sleeping Carp, having sat up to match the crouching man. For a time he had felt on edge around this man, and this feeling got worse after knowing what he was, but to see and hear him talk changed something. The teen did not feel in danger. He should, these people could so easily kill him and they'd have some justification for it. But not now. There was a total lack of hostility in the Black Guard that disarmed Abdel, if only slightly. He was about to talk, but nothing came out of his mouth. Something else was shown that had him forget what he wanted to say. He saw the past, his past, from before he was even from the Refuge. Familiar faces he had long since forgotten the names of, and a city he had enjoyed adventuring in. The present, all the events that led him to this pond. Wu Long in particular, the hindsight he was given made every interaction with the dragon-avatar appear more and more convenient. The group was at the right place at the right time. It was ... Suspicious. Then finally came the future. Many futures. Deaths. Happiness. So many paths. But there was one that really took his attention. It was never clear, only 'glimpses' and feelings. One branch showed him, a few years from now, still on his two feet and his magic intact. For all intents and purposes, he looked cured of the malady that he hated so much. “I-I can walk. I'd be rid of it ...!” he muttered as he shot Carp a look with restrained excitement in his eyes. “How can this be done? How is this even possible?!” deep down he knew the answer. He now believed Carp's words, that his friends sided with the Empire, but he wanted one final reassurance - a final gesture to put his worries at ease.

Sleeping Carp rose, but his arm reached down, hand open in front of Abdel. He spoke only a single word: "Together."

The aftermath

---

"A relief?... What do you mean by that?" Dory looked the man that had helped them in the town."The bodies are no longer here, how would I explain that when they try and search for them?" She began to think on any more holes in the plan. "And what of myself?" putting emphasis to her rather unharmed form. "Would they really believe it when I'm barely harmed whilst the others are nowhere to be found?"

“I was afraid the worst was going to happen.” Viktor answered in Kerreman with a smile pushing on the corners of his lips. He looked around the wreckage, and indeed the bodies were absent. “Simple, the bodies were eaten by the wolves. Or something like that.” he shrugged whilst pocketing the metal vial he had recovered into his vest. “But that is only a concern if they survive.” Viktor turned to look over at another direction, one a bit more East from the town. There was a fire and a lot of smoke that stood out in the dark of night. “The Priest has either finished the job, or they've prevailed. What do you think?”

"Father Dubosque? He didn't seem all that threatening... Did he also turn into one of those.. beasts?" Dory looked at the fire before once more looking over at Viktor. "You know a lot more about what has happened here, don't you? The vial. What is in it?"

“Something that belongs to dangerous and unpleasant people.” he answered the last questioned, let the very first hang and reluctantly addressed the second afterward. “As for what happened here, I know an outbreak happened. And I know one of them can seamlessly lead the flock with near-perfect control.” he began to pace until he was out of the debris zone. He kept his eyes on the remote fire.

“If you want a proper cover up ...” he had his back turned to Dory, hiding his smirk. “You can always say the Mad Avatar claimed them all, and you just barely escaped.”

"Dangerous and unpleasant people?... Do I know of them?" She looked rather confused by it all. “Then if they take out the one in control every single one of those things will start to frenzy?" Her face looked rather unamused. “Mad Avatar?"

“Aren't they already?” he rhetorically asked, leaving it at that. “Yes, the Mad Avatar. Your Tethered friend had a close encounter with her, I do remember. I'm sure she'll back you up, knowing what she knows.”

"I guess you have a point there..." Dory raised her eyebrow at the mention of a tethered friend. "Jocasta? She had a close encounter? I guess it would make sense we'd be wiped out if she couldn't manage against it."